Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (22 page)

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Authors: Maureen Driscoll

Tags: #Historical, #Suspense

BOOK: Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid
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Two men jumped on Stapleton, beating him with clubs.  Ned
tried to get to him, but was jumped by two other men, one of whom slashed his
arm.  He heard someone running to the alley and prayed it was a bystander
coming to help, rather than more men sent by Cantwell, because he had no doubt
who was at the heart of this.  He heard wood cracking and another man went down. 
He glanced over, hoping Stapleton hadn’t been hurt, then saw one of the
villains on the ground bleeding profusely from the head, having been felled by the
newly arrived Ambrose Fisk’s crutch, which was now broken in two. 

Despite the loss of his crutch, Fisk gripped his knife and
held it at the ready for the next wave of attack.  Stapleton’s shirt was soaked
in blood, but he was still fighting off his attackers.   One of them lunged for
Stapleton, knocking him over.  The man was about to bring a club down on his
head as Ned watched helplessly while fighting off his own attacker, when the
brigand with the club fell over, revealing Lynwood with fists clenched in rage,
and Arthur close behind. 

The battle then quickly turned in their favor.  There was one
tense moment when Arthur almost attacked Fisk, but Ned was able to call him off
in time.  When the villains realized they were about to lose, they limped off. 
Ned wanted to follow, but Stapleton and Fisk had what looked to be serious
injuries and needed help.

“What happened?” asked Lynwood, as he examined Stapleton’s
wounds.

“I followed Cantwell when he left,” said Ned as he checked
Fisk. 

“As did I,” said Stapleton, grimacing as Lynwood pressed his
cravat on the wound.  “I’m glad the rest of you happened upon us.”  

“Hal will just be sorry he missed all the fun,” said Arthur. 
“Who’s the other gentleman among us?”

Ned introduced them all to Fisk, who couldn’t quite believe so
many noblemen had been that good in a fight.  He’d been following up a lead
when he heard the commotion in the alley and joined in.

Arthur approached them.  “I just hailed two hacks.  Shall we
go back to Lynwood House?”

“I’ll want to speak with you in the morning, Lord Edward,
but for now I’m off to find a surgeon,” said the Inspector.

“You’re in luck, because we have a resident surgeon at
Lynwood House,” said Ned.   “Inspector Stapleton, Sergeant Fisk, you must come
with us and have your wounds tended.”

After a moment’s hesitation, both Stapleton and Fisk agreed
to go.

Lynwood House was as close to chaotic as it ever got within half
an hour of the men arriving.  Jane issued orders for water to be boiled and the
necessary supplies to be sent up to her, including multiple bottles of Scots
whiskey.

Heskiss escorted Stapleton and Fisk to guest chambers after they’d
been informed in no uncertain terms by Jane that neither would be leaving the
house until their wounds had been tended and checked for infection, which would
take at least 24 hours.  A footman was dispatched to take Stapleton’s report to
his superiors.

Fisk seemed fascinated by the entire process.  It occurred
to Ned this may have been the man’s first experience above stairs in a house
like Lynwood.

“I’m sure you have room for me in the servants’ quarters, do
ye not?” he asked Heskiss.   “I’m not cut out for such finery.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Fisk,” said Rigg, who’d
come to check on his old comrade and was now helping the limping man into bed. 
“The Lynwood House servants’ quarters are almost as nice as this.  So I’m
afraid avoiding finery will be an impossibility.   Miss Wetherby will be here
directly to tend to you.  Is there anything I can get for you in the meantime?”

“Ye can wake me from this dream I’m having, because I still
can’t believe I’m here.”

“Very good, Sergeant,” said Heskiss as he bowed himself
out.  “Welcome to Lynwood House.”

Jane was in Stapleton’s room, bathing his wounds.  He had a
rather deep slash over his ribcage that would need stitches, as well as cuts
all over his arms, but nothing too serious.  Lynwood, Ned and Arthur watched
her work, while Ned filled Stapleton in on what had happened.

“Miss Wetherby,” said Stapleton, “did you speak to Cantwell
at the ball?”

“No.  I didn’t see him until the very end.”

Stapleton considered the possibilities.  “Your grace, do you
know why he would’ve been on Lady Crenshaw’s invitation list?”

“I can’t imagine he was,” said Lynwood.  “Our aunt is rather
particular about her guests.”

Stapleton winced as Jane began stitching.  “I think we can
assume that he snuck into the party with the sole reason of luring Lord Edward
out into the open.”

“Do you believe he’s the man who killed my grandfather?”
asked Jane as she carefully stitched. 

“I can’t say.  I’ve been looking into his dealings with the
earl, and while I’ve seen plenty to raise my suspicions, I haven’t found any
evidence directly implicating him in any wrongdoing.”

“Until tonight,” said Ned.

“Perhaps not even then.  We can’t prove the man set those
brigands upon you, but I do have enough to bring him in for questioning.  If he
can be found.  I have a feeling he won’t be.”

“I think you should look into Wills Overton,” said Ned.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Jane. 

“Who is Wills Overton?” asked Stapleton.

“An old friend from Marston Vale,” said Jane.

“Who’s all of the sudden come back into your life, now that we
discovered you’re an heiress,” said Ned, as if he needed more reason to dislike
his rival for Jane’s affection.  “It’s quite suspicious really.”

“He says the same about you.”

“That’s outrageous!  I should’ve blackened his eye when I
had the chance.”

“Ned,” drawled Arthur, amused by his brother’s jealousy, “do
you think it’s wise to vent your rather violent spleen in front of the man
investigating you for murder?”

“You can hardly blame Wills for questioning your intentions,
Lord Edward, given the announcement at dinner,” said Jane frostily.

“What announcement?” asked Stapleton.

“Lord Edward’s betrothal to Miss Madeleine Merriman,” said
Jane.

Stapleton looked confused.  “But I thought the two of you…”

“The announcement was a gross misunderstanding,” said
Lynwood.  “I spoke to Miss Merriman and she’ll be releasing you from the
engagement tomorrow, Ned.”

“How did you do that?” asked a relieved Ned, watching for
any reaction from Jane, who was concentrating on Stapleton’s wounds.

“With some life saving assistance from Miss Rosalind, which
I’ll explain later.  But to get us back to the matter at hand, given Evan
Cantwell’s likely involvement in tonight’s events, is there any merit in
investigating Wills Overton?”

“It couldn’t hurt to be thorough,” said Stapleton.  “I’ll
have a man put on him tomorrow.”

“He should talk to Sergeant Fisk,” said Ned.  “He’s already been
digging around for information on him.”

“Ned!” said Jane. 

“I’m not taking any chances regarding the safety of you and
Vi,” said Ned.  Or his matrimonial chances with the infuriating woman.

“Evan Cantwell’s name has come up in dozens of the documents
I found in Huntington’s home,” said Stapleton.  “The earl had been buying up
his markers all over town – substantial debts that would’ve likely gotten
Cantwell killed if left unpaid.  That’s why I was following him tonight.  I
wanted to see if he was still doing business with moneylenders.”

“Could they have made a deal?” asked Jane.  “Could Cantwell
have agreed to marry me in exchange for returning a portion of my inheritance
to my grandfather after we were married?  If my grandfather was holding his
markers, he could’ve controlled Cantwell and demanded much more money than he’d
paid out.”

“And with the earl dead, Cantwell could keep all of the
money.  That’s a very good theory,” said Lynwood.  “What do you think,
Inspector?”

“I think Miss Wetherby would be as fine of an Inspector as
she is a surgeon.”

 

“Don’t even think about getting up, Sergeant,” said Lizzie,
as she sailed into Fisk’s bedchamber where he, Hal and Rigg were playing cards
while waiting for Jane to tend to his wounds.  “I’ve brought you a cane.”

She handed him an ebony cane with a silver handle.

“I believe it’s one of those things where you can hide some
type of sword inside.  They were very popular in the last century, which is
where that thing dates from.  I found it in the attic.”

“Thank ye, milady, but I’ll be heading home soon.”

“Probably not as soon as you think.  I’ll put it by the side
of the bed within reach.  Are you married?”

“Pardon me, milady?” asked the Sergeant.

“Are you married?” she repeated as if it were the most
natural question in the world.

“Lizzie, the Sergeant has been through hell tonight,” said Hal. 
“Must you increase his suffering with your infernal matchmaking?”

“Are you and Rigg volunteering to take his place?”

“Lud, no,” said her brother.

“I’d rather return to the battlefield,” said Rigg.  “But
thank you, my lady.”

“Actually, milady” said Fisk.  “I’d love to find me a wife. 
Only I’m pretty sure you and me don’t exactly run in the same social circle,
not to mention there ain’t a lot of women out there who want a man who’s
missing half a leg.”

“How little you know about women,” said Lizzie, already
running through a list of eligible candidates in her head.

“That’s true enough,” said Fisk.

“Once you’re feeling a bit better, you and I shall have a
talk about what you’re looking for in a wife.  Then I’ll help you find one.”

“That’s one of the best offers I think I’ve ever had,” said
Fisk.

“Good.  Then after you’re happily married, you can convince
these two to give it a go,” she said.  “I want more nieces and a few nephews to
go with them.

“You’ll never get me married,” said Hal.   “I plan to remain
a bachelor until I’m old and grey.”

“We shall see about that,” said Lizzie.  Or, to Hal’s way of
thinking, threatened.

After ensuring the Inspector’s wounds were sufficiently
cleansed, stitched and bandaged, Jane and Ned left Stapleton to tend to Fisk,
leaving Lynwood with the Inspector.

“I’ve never stayed in a nobleman’s house, your grace,” said
Stapleton.  “I’m not quite sure of the protocol.”

“We usually have a ball at midnight, but decided to cancel
tonight’s festivities,” said Lynwood.  Then, after observing Stapleton’s slightly
uncomfortable expression, added “That was a jest.  But it seems no one ever knows
when I’m not in earnest.”

“I can only assume it’s because most are in awe of your
position.”

“And you are not?”

Stapleton waited a moment before answering.  “At the risk of
being thrown into the street, thus doing damage to Miss Wetherby’s excellent
work, I’ve found that a person’s status in life has very little to do with his
or her worth.  I’ve found great courage and grace in the poorest corners of the
slums and met individuals of little worth within the highest ranks.”

“Ah,” said Lynwood.  “You didn’t tell me you’d met the new
King.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Stapleton laughed.

“Inspector, please let us know if there’s anything that can
be done to make you more comfortable.”

Stapleton started to speak, then hesitated.

“Yes?” asked Lynwood.

“I don’t want to sleep until I hear back from Bow Street.  I
know it’s a bit irregular, but I saw a beautiful chess set in your study the
other day.  Would it be possible to have a game?  It’s a luxury I’m rarely
afforded.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

*                    *                  * 

Two hours later, after Jane was satisfied all her patients
were doing as well as could be expected, she collapsed into the arms of the man
who’d come to mean so much to her.  There were no words to describe how she’d
felt when she’d heard how close he’d come to dying and when she’d seen the cuts
and bruises all over his body.

There were no words, so she gave herself to him physically,
completely.  They made love for hours.  Tenderly, soothingly.  As if only their
bodies could say what their words could not. 

He woke her in the early morning hours before returning to
his room.  They made love once again and Jane knew everything between them had
changed forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, everyone was seated on the terrace for
breakfast.  A message from Bow Street had arrived during the night, stating
exactly what Stapleton thought it would.  There was no sign of Evan Cantwell. 
He’d moved out of his rooms and a manhunt had turned up no trace of him.

“Fisk,” said Ned, “you said you were following up a lead
last night.  What was it?”

“I didn’t find much, my lord, just a couple things wot
struck me as odd.  That Overton bloke has two or three close friends from
school and they do everything together.  Every hell I went to and every…”  He
paused as he looked at the ladies.  “…uh, establishment I visited always had
the same story.  It was the three of them together.  Never alone.  I checked
with some of me Mayfair sources and they said the same thing.”

“You have Mayfair sources?” asked Lynwood.

“The servants network, yer grace.  Best source of
information in town.  I can find just about anything about anyone in society that
way.”

“It’s true,” said Stapleton.  “It’s actually one of the
reasons I stopped thinking of Lord Edward as a suspect.  Your servants sing the
praises of this family unstintingly.”

“I see,” said Lynwood, as he shot a glance at a stoic
Heskiss.  “What did the servants’ network say about Overton, Sergeant?”

“Well, yer grace, they don’t seem to like him much.  There’s
nothing serious I could find, mostly just a feeling.  Stand-offish.  Don’t
socialize much except with those two friends of his.”

“What about romantic liaisons?” asked Ned.

“None that I heard of.”

“Those ‘establishments,’ you mentioned,” said Lizzie.  “I
assume you mean bordellos.  Did you hear anything there?”

Sergeant Fisk’s face turned crimson, as all four Kellington
brothers admonished their sister.

“Honestly,” said Lizzie.  “It’s not like I don’t have a
brain.  I’ve known of the existence of such houses for years.  I do have four
brothers, after all, none of whom are up for any type of sainthood.  Please
continue, Sergeant.”

“Well,” said Fisk, as diplomatically as possible.  “Here’s
the thing.  Overton and his pals used to go to those ‘establishments,’ but
mostly to drink and play cards.  Almost like it was for show.  They rarely
stayed to, uh, do the types of things young bucks usually go to those places to
do.”  

“Which would be….” Asked Lizzie, whose knowledge wasn’t as
in-depth as she would’ve liked.

“Lady Elizabeth!” said Lynwood.

“You do good work, Sergeant,” said Stapleton.  “Have you
ever thought of going to work for Bow Street?”

“Ye need two good legs for that, don’t ye?” asked Fisk,
intrigued.

“A good mind can make up for an imperfect body, as you’ve
more than proven,” said Stapleton.  “If you’re interested, we should talk.  In
the meantime,” he said, looking at those around him, “what are we going to do
about Cantwell?”

*                    *                    *               

Morning gave way to a lovely spring day when it was just
about impossible to stay indoors.  Vi, who’d been so well behaved in a house
full of tumult, begged her mother to take her to the park.  Jane refused, but
finally compromised by accompanying her to the garden. 

Ned had left a couple hours earlier, joining Fisk and
Stapleton in their search for Cantwell, as futile as it was likely to be.

Arthur and Hal had gone back to search Huntington House for
clues, while Lynwood had been called to Lords for an emergency session. 

Jane and Vi had the entire garden in which to play with the
puppy, who still didn’t have a name.  Vi was throwing a stick that the unnamed
dog was enthusiastically retrieving.  Under other circumstances, it would’ve
been a perfect family outing and Jane found herself wishing Ned were there with
them. 

As Vi continued to throw the stick, Jane noticed they were
getting further and further away from the house and Lynwood’s army of servants.

“Sweeting, you’ve gone far enough!” called Jane to her
daughter.  “Let’s go back toward the house.”

“Just one moment, Mama!” said Vi as she ran after the dog,
who’d evidently caught the scent of something.

They were only out of sight for a split second around a
large bush, but Jane felt a tingle down her spine.  She ran toward her
daughter.

“Vi?”  She called, as she ran faster.  “Vi!”

She rounded the corner, then saw the open gate. 

An instant later a cloth came over her mouth.  She recognized
the scent as ether right before everything went black.

*                  *                *

After more than ninety minutes of searching, Ned, Stapleton
and Fisk found the clue they’d been looking for.  It was at a disreputable
boarding house near Seven Dials and they’d paid the proprietor a crown to get
him to talk.

“He were here,” said a half-drunk Mathias Brown, “and he
done run out on payin’ for the last three days of rent he did.  Which is why I
don’t feel badly on account of snitchin’ on him.  If’n he hadn’t left me high and
dry, ye wouldn’t get nothin’ out of me.  But as it is, I’ll tell ye all I
know.  For a price.”

They paid the man another crown to get him to hurry up.

“At first he acted like he was royalty and all.  Like he had
loads of blunt.  Paid up a week in advance on account of he didn’t want me
snoopin’.  Like I would do something’ like that with him never leavin’ his
room.  But somethin’ changed about a week ago.  Stopped spreadin’ his blunt
around and started layin’ low, like he was hidin’ from someone.  Wouldn’t see
nobody.  That’s why I was so surprised when he seen them blokes.”

“What blokes?” asked Stapleton.

“Them three toffs wot come around.  Really chummy together
they was.  And some regular Beau Brummels.  Didn’t know what a bunch of swells
like them wanted with Cantwell.”

“Do you remember their names?” asked Ned.

“Didn’t rightly get introduced, did I?  But they got in a
row, which ain’t all that unusual around here.  But they was screamin’ about
blackmail.  And the one toff said Cantwell was a bastard – which he was – when
Cantwell said to shut up and do what he was told.  Called him Over-something.”

“Overton?” said Ned, as he clenched his fists.

“That’s it,” said Mathias.  “Overton.  Then they come out
all angry and that was the last time I seen ‘em.  Cantwell took off the day
after.”

“So that’s our connection between Cantwell and Overton,”
said Fisk.  “But it still don’t mean Overton was in on killing the earl.”

“The oddest thing,” said Mathias.  “I never figured Cantwell
as a nancy boy, but with friends like that, he must’ve been.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Stapleton.

“That Overton and his mates was poofs.  The three of them. 
Must’ve been Cantwell was, too.”

Mathias was just about to ask for yet another crown, given
his impressive deductive abilities, but the three men who’d been so generous
were already running to their hack.

Moments later, they were on their way back to Kellington
House.

“If Overton is homosexual, then his flirtation with Jane wasn’t
genuine.  He wants her money,” said Ned.

“Or it could just be to cover up his preference for men,”
said Stapleton.  “It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to throw others
off the track.”

“Under other circumstances, I’d agree with you,” said Ned. 
“But given his association with Cantwell and the argument about blackmail, it’s
too big of a coincidence.  I’ve got to tell Jane not to see him again until we
know for sure.”

They arrived home moments later to find Kellington House in
chaos.  Before Ned and the others could even get out of the carriage, Rigg
appeared and told the coachman to head to the northern road.  Then he got in
the carriage holding two braces of pistols and extra ammunition.

“They’ve been taken, my lord,” said Rigg grimly as they set
off.  “We don’t know exactly when, but in the past hour.  We sent footmen out
in all directions and just received word of a carriage racing away from here
and heading to the northern road.  We sent word to your brothers, who’ll likely
be right behind us.”  He handed each man a pistol, then kept one for himself. 

We have to catch them, thought Ned with fear clamping down
on his heart.  We have to.

*                *                    *

Jane awoke with a terrible headache and a dirty gag shoved
in her mouth.  Her hands and feet were bound and she was in a carriage that
felt like it was moving at full-speed.  She sat up immediately, frantically
looking for Vi.  Her terrified daughter was bound and gagged on the seat
opposite to her, sitting next to a grim Wills Overton. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Jane.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Vi, hoping to impart strength
to her, as she tried to get her hands untied.

“There’s no use struggling,” continued Wills.  “You’ll just
tire yourself out.  And you’re going to want to keep your wits about you. 
Because I’m not your real enemy.  I never have been.  I felt sorry for you all
those years ago when you came home an outcast because I know exactly how that
feels.  I know what it’s like to have your family turn against you.  But in my
case it wasn’t because of what I’d done, it was because of what I was.  What I
am.  I can’t go to prison, Jane.  And I can’t afford to pay him any longer.  He
told me if I delivered you to him, he’d leave me alone.  Let me live my life. 
It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted, you see.  And now I finally can.”

As he said those words, Jane realized the carriage was
slowing down. 

“I wish there’d been another way, Jane.  But I didn’t have a
choice.  Good luck.  I’m afraid you’ll need it.”

The carriage drew to a stop.  The door opened and Overton
got out without looking back.  Jane made as much noise as she could, but from
the brief glimpse she had of the outside, she saw only forest.  They’d left
London while she’d been unconscious and must’ve been on the road for some time.

Once the door was closed, Jane looked around for any type of
weapon.   Suddenly, a pistol shot rang out, and a moment later the door opened
again.  She caught a brief glimpse of Wills on the ground bleeding, the look of
death in his eyes.  Then Evan Cantwell got in the carriage and took Wills’s
place.

“Hello, Jane,” he said as he shut the door and the carriage
got underway again.  “Settle in.  For it’s a long ride to Scotland.”

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