A Murdered Earl Read online

  Luke could find no comfort for her, but after a while he suggested they tried to meet each day at the same hour, and Bella smiled delightfully up at him. Once again he had to restrain himself, to remember she was not like many serving girls, willing to give their favours freely for some small gift.

  ***

  The butcher's boy admitted that the other lad with him had not, as he'd said, been delivering fish, but was his brother who'd been eager to see at first hand what life was like in a Mayfair mansion. Neither of them, they said, had taken any notice of Jenny or seen the chocolate on the table.

  'It were all such a muddle, people dashin' abaht all over place, an' shoutin', I dain't know wot were goin' on,' the interloper maintained, and Luke believed him.

  The milliner's assistant, pert and pretty, but with sharp eyes and a quick tongue, said she'd tried to go through into the front of the house, but had been pushed back by one of the footmen. She tossed her head. 'I could see I'd get nowhere in that bedlam, so I went out and decided to go back another day.'

  Mr Hadleigh asserted that he had not gone inside the kitchen. 'I knew, as soon as Mrs Robinson told me she was leaving, that I would receive no order that day, so I left,' he said briskly.

  No one knew who the woman seeking sewing work was, so Luke abandoned any hope of finding her. Sam had already asked if anyone at the other houses nearby knew her, but they could add nothing. Nor could he hope to discover the soldier's whereabouts. That left the girl who brought the milk and the other servants.

  He loitered in the mews early one morning and waylaid the girl as she carried her yoke towards the kitchen door. At first she was inclined to be flirtatious, but when he revealed what he wanted to know she berated him for a pesky nuisance who had nothing better to do than prevent honest girls from earning their living.

  'You were with Joseph in the dairy, I believe?'

  'So where else should I be when I'm putting the milk in a cool place, where I'm told ter put it?' she demanded truculently.

  'If you were, you couldn't have seen what people were doing in the kitchen,' he replied. 'I'm trying to discover who might have been close to the range or the table, who could have poisoned the chocolate. I'm hoping those people I can in no way suspect, such as yourself, might have some information.'

  'What's it matter ter you?'

  'My neck,' he said curtly. 'I'm likely to be accused if there are no other suspects. And how can I prove my innocence unless I discover who did do it?'

  She stared at him, then grinned. 'Best get away from 'ere, then, 'adn't yer?'

  Sam discovered that on the following day the Countess was going to stay with her daughter, and the Earl meant to travel to Redditch Court. 'Going to make them know who's master now,' he said. 'He said he wasn't going to keep so many servants eating their idle heads off, so it's my guess he'll send most of them packing. It might have been us, but he prefers Town life. Come round in the afternoon, they should both be safely out of the way by then.'

  Luke's sudden reappearance in the kitchens of Redditch House caused considerable excitement. Partly to escape notice if the constable should see him, by looking as little like a servant as possible, he had dressed in his best clothes, a mulberry coat, pale fawn breeches, and well-fitting boots polished to as high a gloss as that Augustus demanded. But he did not gain any more information. None of the servants who had been in the kitchen could recall much about that morning. Joseph was curt in his replies, Suky kept casting worried glances at Jenny, and the boot boy disclaimed any knowledge of who had been there anyway.

  Harris had gone with the Earl to Redditch Court, but the others believed he'd been asleep until the excitement was over, only waking when the Viscount had sent for him long after the Countess had been put to bed. Jane said she'd only popped in for a moment, and hadn't taken any heed of who'd been there. Maggie simply glared at him and refused to answer his questions. Miss Armitage had left with the Countess, and Mrs Grimsby was out on another of her mysterious errands.

  He managed to escape without permitting Jenny to follow him, but Amos met him outside.

  'Have you found anyone who could employ Gilletty?' he asked anxiously.

  'My aunt is asking amongst her friends, but not many of them employ coachmen.'

  'Poor old feller's gettin' fretful, 'e can't abide bein' cooped up in 'ayloft all day.'

  'Surely he can come out now the family's not here? None of the servants would betray him.'

  Amos nodded. 'It's not that. I'm afeard that if 'e comes out 'e'll find it too difficult ter go back. Then the Lord knows what 'e'll do.'

  Luke walked thoughtfully back to Clerkenwell. He didn't see what else he could do to try and solve the mystery, but he would once more ask his aunt if she had any hope of a job for Gilletty.

  When he reached the house, however, all thoughts of Earls and coachmen and murder fled. His grandfather was sitting in the parlour with his aunt and uncle.

  ***

  Sylvie twisted her hands together nervously. 'I came with Farmer Jackson's wife, in the gig,' she explained. 'She was coming to market, and I can go back with her. Have you employed anyone else?'

  Lady Capstone looked at her ruefully. 'No, my dear, not yet. But I cannot offer you the post, child. For one thing you are too young, and have no experience of small children, and I know your grandparents would not permit it.'

  Sylvie bit her lip. 'I am seventeen,' she said urgently. 'I would learn. I have helped care for my cousin Belinda's babies sometimes.'

  'I need a nursery governess, not a nursemaid. Besides, your grandparents would object,' Lady Capstone reminded her.

  'I'm a burden to them, and to Luke! He is permitted to work as a servant to earn his bread, so why should I not do my part? I cannot bear it, to be beholden to them all!'

  'No, my dear. It is far better for you to be with your family, who love you, and who can care for you properly. Here in Oxford you would be subject to all sorts of insults from the undergraduates. Some of them look on any serving girl as legitimate prey. If you must find a position, and I do sympathise with you and admire you for wishing to help, it really would be better for you to find one in a small village where there are fewer dangers for unprotected girls.'

  Despite all Sylvie's arguments Lady Capstone would not be moved, and after asking her what time Mrs Jackson proposed setting off for home, she told Sylvie she must remain with her, and her own maid would escort her to the market to meet that lady.

  Sylvie fretted, but permitted Lady Capstone to take her up to the nursery where, she said, she could help Rose, the nurse, and experience what it meant to care for a lively girl of three and an even livelier boy of two, plus a babe in arms.

  'I am convinced that after an hour of it you will change your mind,' she said. 'I have to see my dressmaker now, but you can join me in the drawing room for some tea before you leave.'

  Sylvie was thinking furiously. She would not be driven back home, she would not give in so meekly. If Lady Capstone would not employ her, there would be others who might, and she did not mind what position she took so long as it enabled her to earn her living.

  Her grandmother, she recalled, had applied to a Registry when she needed a new housemaid. She supposed there were some in Oxford, and if she could escape from the house she would find one. Fortunately she still had with her the bonnet and shawl she had worn for the expedition. She was decently attired for walking in the town.

  For twenty minutes she listened to the nurse's chatter, and played with the two little ones while the baby slept and the nurse mended their dresses.

  'I don't often get the chance while they're awake,' she said.

  Sylvie wondered whether to ask her for the direction of a Registry, but decided that might enable her grandparents to trace her too swiftly. She had no intention of disappearing altogether. She knew they'd worry, and she wasn't heartless, but for a few days she meant to hide, until she was securely established in a post and they would not wish to force her to go home. />
  Her opportunity came when the nurse discovered she had left some of the clothes to be mended down in the laundry.

  'I can fetch them,' Sylvie offered quickly.

  She sped down the back stairs, waited outside the kitchen until the cook had gone to fetch something from the still room, and then whisked through into the small garden behind the house. Moments later she was walking sedately along a narrow lane which led back to the centre of the town. Her heart was thumping and she could scarcely breathe, but she was elated at the success so far. Now all she needed was to find the Registry, persuade them she was suitable for a position, and hope there was one available where she could start immediately.

  She had no illusions. If her plan failed, and she had to return to the Rectory, she would be guarded more strictly than ever, and have little chance of future escape. This was her only opportunity.

  ***

  Chapter 12

  'What is it? Is Sylvie all right?' Luke demanded before even offering greetings to his grandfather.

  'She's disappeared,' he replied bluntly. 'It was the day before yesterday, and I had hoped she'd come here to you. But if she were coming she'd be here by now.'

  'Had she money for the coach fare?'

  'Yes, what you gave her,' the old man retorted grimly. 'If you hadn't indulged her – '

  'She'd have taken more desperate steps!' Luke interrupted angrily. 'Forget that, and be thankful she's not penniless! Is it possible Bossard has her?'

  'We don't think so, unless by the unluckiest chance. No strangers have been seen in the vicinity.'

  'Tell me exactly what happened.'

  His grandfather frowned at his tone, but complied. 'Two days since she went into Oxford, without our permission, of course, and simply vanished.'

  'Why? What need did she have of going there? You were aware of the danger and promised to watch her more closely.'

  'I fear I have not been successful in making her understand her duty of obedience.' The old man sighed and rubbed his eyes, which were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

  Luke suppressed his pity. He had to discover the facts, and his grandfather was too distressed and angry to think clearly. 'You were to guard Sylvie, not preach obedience! Does anyone know why she went there?'

  'Some little while ago she wanted to obtain a position, to earn her own bread, she told me. It was your example she had to follow, of course! Naturally I forbade it. She had heard that a friend's older sister in Oxford needed a nursery governess.'

  Luke swallowed his hot retort. If it helped his grandfather to blame him he could endure that. 'Have you seen this lady?'

  'Of course, it was the first place I visited.'

  'How did she get to Oxford? It's too far to walk.'

  'She persuaded a farmer's wife, Mrs Jackson, to take her, and when she did not meet her for the return journey the good woman came straight to me. Of course I suspected where she had gone, and rode immediately to Oxford. I'm afraid Sylvie is showing more deceitfulness than I expected of her.'

  'What did these people say?' Luke asked tersely. He wished his grandfather would cease blaming both himself and Sylvie and come to the facts.

  'She did apply for the post, was turned down on the score of her age and lack of experience, and Lady Capstone meant to keep her safely until it was time to have her escorted to meet Mrs Jackson, but somehow she escaped from the house. No one has seen her since. Lady Capstone had sent a groom to me, but I must have passed him on the road. Of course, when he told your grandmother she was even more frantic than she had been before.'

  'And you thought she might have taken a coach for London?' Luke asked.

  'To come to you. Of course. And I followed her today.'

  'Surely by the time she left this Lady Capstone's house it would have been too late for her to reach London the same day,' Aunt Caroline put in. 'Had she money with her? Did she take any clothes from the house?'

  'She had the money you gave her, Luke, the last time you saw her,' Mr Dawson said again, still accusingly.

  'You could not afford to give her an allowance, and every young girl needs some pin money,' Luke replied, and was furious with himself for beginning to sound defensive. 'Never mind, she isn't here, and I doubt if she meant to come to London. She'll have tried for a position in Oxford, and we're wasting time. I'll ride there at once.'

  'You mustn't risk leading Bossard to her,' his uncle, who had so far stayed silent, reminded him.

  Luke stared at him, then shrugged his shoulders. 'If I ride, I will be aware of anyone following me. I have to take the risk.'

  'Wear one of my old wigs,' Joshua said. 'Only old men cling to them now, so that will fool anyone at a distance.'

  'You won't be able to reach Oxford before dark, even if you change horses,' Aunt Caroline said. 'Have an early night and leave on the first coach. Father might be rested enough to go back with you.'

  Luke shook his head. 'Grandfather must rest for a day or so, and I'll be faster on my own, riding.' He'd been making plans as he spoke. 'I can beg the loan of one of the horses from Redditch House stables. Amos can ride another with me for a stage or so to bring it home. Then I'll hire another, find a barn to spend the night, and be in Oxford at first light. What is Lady's Capstone's direction?'

  They tried to argue against this plan, but he cut them short brusquely. He didn't want a whole day of enduring his grandfather's blame or self-recrimination. Besides, he would make faster progress on horseback, and he felt the need for urgency.

  'Sylvie will have tried to obtain a post in Oxford,' he repeated, and wondered if he were merely reassuring himself. 'If I can trace her it's best to do it quickly. Where's that wig, Uncle Joshua? And do you have an old cloak, and perhaps one of the old tricornes? If I appear to be elderly and unfashionable I should evade any attention Bossard may be paying to me. I'll come out to the Rectory tomorrow night, whether I find her or not,' he added over his shoulder as he left the room.

  Ignoring his grandfather's continuing protests, he went with Joshua to find what he wanted, while Aunt Caroline bustled round in the kitchen packing food for him.

  'Take this,' she said. 'There's bread and cheese, a piece of pie, and some slices of beef. And you might need more money than you have on you.'

  She thrust a purse into his hands, and he smiled gratefully at her. 'Thank you.'

  'And bring Sylvie here when you find her. My father means well, but it's no life for a young girl with elderly grandparents. I can keep her safe for a while, even though Bossard is in London, and even pay her if she has a mind to act as housemaid for me. We can think then of someone else she can go to. Perhaps my sister Sophia would take her.'

  'Perhaps,' Luke said. The problem of Sylvie's future could be dealt with later. He kissed his aunt, thanked her for all the trouble she was taking, and left by way of the garden gate. He went as swiftly as he could towards Holborn where he hired a hackney and was driven to Redditch House.

  In the mews he was fortunate to find Amos seated on an upturned pail and somewhat indolently polishing tack. When Amos had finished laughing at the sight of Luke in an old-fashioned wig, Luke rapidly explained his need for a horse, and Amos, grinning anew at the thought of what the Earl would say if he knew, made haste to saddle and bridle the two fastest hacks in the stables.

  'Get us to Beaconsfield or even Wycombe well afore dark,' he said cheerfully.

  'But it's a long way for you to ride them back today,' Luke objected, 'and you could be in trouble if you're missed. They could accuse you of stealing the horses.'

  Amos shook lis head. 'No one cares,' he said simply. 'All the family's away, the 'ouse is at sixes an' sevens, and we'm all left ter do as we please.'

  'It still a long way to ride back.'

  'Won't need to. Me brother's a groom at a big 'ouse just north o' Wycombe. Bin there years, 'e 'as. I can rest the beasts there, ride back termorrow.'

  ***

  They parted at Wycombe. Luke refused Amos's suggestion that he kept the
Earl's horse for a few days, on the grounds that he had no idea when he might be able to return to London, or whether he'd have to come by coach with his sister. He hired another beast and rode on, and only when it got too dark to see did he force his way into a small copse and try to sleep for a few hours, wrapped in the cloak and with the saddle for pillow.

  Before dawn he was on his way again, having discarded the wig, for it was unlikely Bossard would have been able to follow him. He rode into Oxford along with the carts bringing food to the market. It was still early, but he thought Lady Capstone's servants would be awake even if she wasn't, so his first call was to her house.

  He found the cook taking a break while she consumed her own breakfast. When he explained his mission she offered him a mug of ale and a plate of ham and eggs.

  'You look hungry,' she commented, and Luke recalled that in his desperate anxiety to reach Oxford he hadn't paused to eat what his aunt had provided.

  'Thank you, it would be welcome.'

  'Then sit ye down, and Rose can tell what she knows. She's the nursemaid, an' no doubt she'll be down in a minute, for the children's breakfast milk,' she explained. 'Your sister was meant to spend the time with 'er.'

  Rose duly appeared, and exclaimed, wide-eyed, when Luke said he'd come looking for Sylvie. 'Did she say anything to you about what she meant to do?' he asked.

  Rose thought hard, then shook her head. 'She were disappointed, loike, not ter 'ave been taken on 'ere,' she said slowly. 'Good wi' the little 'uns, she were, too.'

  'Did she mention goin' ter find another post?' the cook put in. 'Did she ask yer if yer knew of any more that were open?'

  'No, never. Oi thought she were goin' 'ome, an' yer could 'ave knocked me down wi' a feather when she vanished all on a sudden, loike that, when all she were doing' were fetchin' some clothes fer me. Oi thought the fairies might 'a' taken 'er!'

  'Don't yer let the mistress 'ear that silly nonsense, Rose, me girl!' the cook warned. 'Yer knows she don't fancy it when yer tells the bairns such tales.'