A Murdered Earl Read online

  'I'll attend to that, your ladyship,' the doctor said hurriedly. 'Go to your bed and try to rest.'

  She departed, with many sobs and sighs, supported by her dresser and the maid. Joseph, holding the stinking feathers as far away from his nose as he could, followed. The doctor walked across to the window and looked out over the Square.

  'Would you care for a brandy?' the Viscount asked after a moment's silence. 'I'm very grateful to you for coming, and dealing with her hysterics. None of the women seemed capable of sense.'

  The doctor turned. 'No brandy for me, my lord,' he said heavily. 'You might feel better if you had some though. There's more bad news, I'm afraid.'

  The Viscount stood and stared uncomprehendingly. The doctor sighed, crossed to the table where a decanter and some glasses stood, and ignoring the Viscount's instinctive gesture of protest, poured a hefty measure.

  'Here, take this.' He waited while the Viscount gulped, and then gently pushed him down into a chair. 'I wasn't called for your mother,' he said slowly. 'They sent for me because your father was ill.'

  'My father? I don't understand. What's wrong with him? He was in his usual bad temper last night!'

  The doctor abandoned his gentle approach. 'Your father is dead,' he said harshly. 'I was called because they thought he'd had a seizure, but I suspect he was poisoned. It seems to me that the poison was administered to him in his morning chocolate. It took almost immediate effect. There was nothing I or anyone else could do.'

  'My father's dead?' the young man whispered. 'Poisoned? How can you know?'

  The doctor explained his suspicions. The new Earl swallowed the rest of the brandy in one gulp and rose to refill the glass. For a moment he strode about the room, then he tugged viciously at the bell pull. He remained staring into the glass until Joseph appeared.

  'Where's Peters?' he snapped.

  'Just outside, by his lordship's bedroom, my lord.'

  'Fetch him, immediately, Sam, and then come back. I have a task for you.'

  Moments later Luke and Sam entered the drawing room. The doctor had retreated to the window, shaking his head slightly. The young man had shown no grief, but he'd known this family for many years, and was fully aware that no one member bore the slightest shred of affection for any of the others.

  'I understand that my father has been murdered, by means of chocolate you administered to him, Peters, this very morning.'

  Luke glanced at the doctor. 'That is what the doctor thinks,' he replied, 'but I have no idea how the poison got into the chocolate.'

  'No? Well, it's perfectly obvious to me! You resented the very justified complaints he had against you. You think, just because you possess some piffling little French title, which are ten a penny, that you are better than the rest of us. You couldn't bear to be chastised. You killed him.'

  Luke blinked. 'I swear that's untrue,' he began, but the other cut across him, his voice rising almost to a scream.

  'Don't answer me back! Sam, go and fetch the constable! I'll see this poltroon hanged if it's the last thing I do!'

  ***

  Chapter 5

  'Fancy you having a title! And me working with a real live count! I'll have something to tell my grandchildren, that I will.'

  'I might not be a live count for much longer if he has his way,' Luke replied grimly.

  Sam nodded. 'Proper vicious, he was. Why pick on you? If the old man was poisoned, as the doctor said, young Jenny, or whoever made the chocolate, might have put it in.'

  'Fortunately the constable saw that too.'

  They were in a dingy tavern near Golden Square, much patronised by the servants of Mayfair. After telling Luke to hold himself ready for questioning, the new Earl had ignored the immediate needs of his mother and household, and taken himself off to argue with the nearest magistrate in the hope of forcing him to order Luke's arrest.

  'Are you going back?' Sam asked, glancing down at the cloak bag between their feet.

  'Of course. To run away would imply guilt. But I may be forced into it later, so I'm getting prepared.'

  'Where you going to stash it?'

  'I have an accommodating friend in Clerkenwell who will keep it for me,' Luke replied. 'Then if I need to go in a hurry I won't have to leave all my possessions behind.'

  Sam chuckled. 'I thought you were going to punch your way out when he accused you. Real dangerous you looked, and I could see you had your fists ready.'

  Luke grinned at him. 'Saner counsels prevailed. I can fight if I must, so be warned!'

  He'd been fortunate, he knew, that the constable had been one of the solid, plodding individuals who liked to absorb and assess information in his own way and at his own speed. Another might have been sufficiently overawed by the new Earl's rank to become flustered, anxious only to please. This one, after listening to the doctor's suspicions, had asked to view the body, then listened while Luke described to him what had happened, and declared he was off to ask for advice from his superiors. None of the Earl's increasingly shrill vituperation had moved him from this resolve.

  The moment the Earl had departed Luke had packed all but the most essential of his possessions in a large bag. He had been on his way out of the mews when Sam had overtaken him.

  'It's a madhouse back there,' he'd said, falling into step with Luke. 'I'm leaving them to it for an hour or two. They'll never miss me, state they're in.'

  Luke had led the way to the tavern, ordered ale and slices of pie, and only then did Sam refer to the scene in the drawing room, and demand to know what the Earl had meant by saying Luke had a title, and French at that. Luke explained, and Sam, in between speculating on who might have wished the Earl dead, kept chuckling at the thought of being a fellow servant with someone with a title.

  Luke made up his mind. 'Sam, if I'm to clear myself, I need to find out who did kill him.'

  'Are you sure it was poison, not a seizure?'

  'How can I know? But the doctor seemed sure, and while he says it was so, there will at least be suspicions. If I can prove it was someone else I want to.'

  'How can you do that?' Sam was dubious. 'Will you employ a Runner? Could you afford to?'

  'That's not the answer. I don't have money to spare, and they wouldn't do any better than I will myself. I shall ask questions, talk to everyone, and see what comes out.'

  'If there's a poisoner in Redditch House you'll be in danger yourself, stirring it up.'

  'Yes, I know. But it's the only way.' He decided that he had to trust someone, and Sam was the best known to him of the Redditch House servants. 'Sam, if I have to go suddenly, for any reason, I want you to be able to get in touch. If I tell you where to ask for me, will you promise not to tell anyone else?'

  'Cut me throat and wish to die,' Sam said promptly. 'But what about? What could I do?'

  'Keep me informed of what's happening. I'll do what I can, ask questions now, but somehow I don't think I'll be at Redditch House for much longer. Besides, I haven't anyone to valet.'

  'I'd almost forgotten that. Who could have wanted the old man dead? Might it have been an accident?'

  'Not from what the doctor said. It's not as though they used something like a bad mushroom. The doctor thought it was cyanide, and though I don't know much about it, I do know it's not something just lying about in any kitchen for anyone to get hold of. I must try and find out who could have got it.'

  ***

  An hour or so later, having left his possessions at a tall thin house in Clerkenwell, and spent an instructive ten minutes with the owner of it, Luke returned to Grosvenor Square. As he entered the kitchen Jenny pounced on him.

  'Where've yer been? We all thought you'd scarpered, and not one of us would 'ave blamed you.'

  'What's been happening?'

  'Her ladyship's been lyin' in a dark room all mornin', keeping poor Miss Armitage busy fetching possets and laudanum. The doctor came back with another man, one from the 'ospital, St. Bart's, he said. The young master's been yellin' fit ter
bust that someone would 'ang for it, though he dain't seem too upset that his pa's dead. And no one's cookin' any dinner, they all say it’s not their place.'

  'Where's Mrs Grimsby?'

  'She went ter find a new cook an' butler,' the kitchen maid Suky said shyly. 'But then she were goin' ter visit 'er sister. She said as it were 'er day off, an' she'd lost half of it already.'

  Luke glanced at the servants who were sitting round the big kitchen table, looking both bewildered and excited. 'Well, if you want to eat yourselves you ought to start doing something,' he remarked. ‘What's in the larder? Have we any meat?'

  'Butcher come early, but there was no one to give the order,' Maggie, one of the housemaids, said.

  'There's some pie left over, and the end of that neck of mutton, and some ham,' the kitchen maid Suky volunteered. 'There's a couple of rabbits hanging up too.'

  'Good, that's a start. Not what they're used to upstairs, but they'll have to put up with it.' He glanced at the range, and saw that the fire was high. 'Can anyone make pastry? We could make rabbit pie.'

  'I'll do that,' Jenny offered.

  'And there's plenty of stock an' some onions. I'll make some soup,' Suky chimed in.

  'We'll have a feast fit for us, if not for a king,' Luke said. 'I'll go and see what's happening upstairs.'

  He left a suddenly busy kitchen. In the entrance hall he found Sam lounging in the porter's chair.

  'What's happening?'

  'His little lordship's gone off in a miff. Ordered the coach, and gone to the City to see his pa's man of business, from what he said to the coachman.'

  'What about his father's body?'

  'Taken away. But the doctors agree, it was poison,' Sam said with a shrug. 'Who could have been so wicked?'

  'Who could have benefited?'

  'Most of us, one way or the other. Though the new master could be worse for us, I suppose.'

  'I'm going to look in the library, try and find some papers or letters,' Luke decided. 'I'll leave the door open. Make a noise to warn me if anyone comes.'

  He went swiftly into the room where his late master sat when he wished to be alone, and where he wrote letters and interviewed his man of affairs. There was a large mahogany desk with pedestals set near the window. Luke sat down by it and worked his way through the drawers. Only the central one was locked, but the others held nothing but bills and paper, a few receipts, and an account book for Redditch Court, which contained on one side just the wages of the servants and other payments, and on the other side the rents collected, and the prices obtained for such items as timber and corn.

  Briefly he contemplated breaking open the locked drawer, but if he did he would be suspected, and have no defence. He looked round at the shelves of books, behind glass doors. The volumes were uniformly bound, but did not appear to have been read a great deal. It was unlikely anything was hidden there. It would take an age to search them, and in truth he did not know what he sought. Something to connect the Earl with his father, perhaps, and explain what the Earl now never could. It was unlikely there might be something which would help to explain the murder of his master, but that was of less concern to him than trying to solve the mystery of his family's vanished jewels.

  At that moment Sam coughed loudly, and Luke went swiftly from the room. He was talking innocently to Sam when Joseph appeared on the stairs and looked suspiciously at them.

  'No work ter do?' Joseph asked.

  Sam grinned cheerfully. 'No messages to deliver today.'

  Luke went upstairs to the old Earl's bedroom, and after an initial reluctance to enter that room again, he opened the door and slipped inside. The body was gone, but the bedcovers were in disarray. The shards of china from the chocolate cup had been swept up, and he wondered whether the doctors could discover anything from them. Could they know for certain that the cyanide had been given that way? It must have been. The Earl had been asleep when Luke came into the room, he had been healthy when he awoke, and the chocolate was the only thing he'd eaten or drunk that morning.

  Mechanically Luke began to put away the clothes left lying about the room on the previous evening. There were few places to search, and he found no papers, nothing except a fine emerald ring which had rolled beneath the bed.

  He held it in his palm and inspected it closely. He'd never seen it before, but from the size he thought it must have belonged to the Earl. There was some fluff clinging to it, and he wondered how long it had lain there. Did the housemaids not sweep beneath the bed? Was one maid responsible for this room, or did any of them do it? He must discover their duties, try and find out when the room was last cleaned thoroughly. But how could this knowledge help him?

  He sighed, and was about to put the ring on top of the dressing table when he paused. Did anyone know that it had been missing? Would his discovery of it be to his own disadvantage or otherwise? If it were known that the ring was missing he might be accused of theft, but if he returned it the young Earl could just as easily accuse him of having stolen it and now be trying to escape the consequences by clandestinely replacing it. Perhaps it would be best to deny all knowledge of it. When the room was cleaned again surely it would be found.

  He tossed the ring beneath the bed, took one more look round the room to see whether he'd missed anywhere to search. Then he went back to the kitchens where there was a cheerful hum of activity. Jenny, her arms covered in flour, was rolling out pastry, while Maggie stirred a cauldron and Suky, at the far end of the big table, scrubbed vegetables. Joseph, who'd been in the dining room, followed Luke into the kitchen and eyed him somewhat sourly.

  'I 'ears you've suddenly been made up to butler and housekeeper combined,' he jeered.

  'Have I?' Luke asked. 'Why should you think that?'

  'Obvious, ain't it? You've been throwing orders about, it seems, though I don't know by what right.'

  'Not orders, suggestions. If somebody hadn't thought of it you'd be having no dinner, and I imagine the Countess at least will want something when she's had a sleep.'

  'She won't lose 'er appetite, that's for sure,' Jenny said. 'Have yer laid the table, Joseph?'

  'Yes, but what's the bettin' neither of 'em come down? The young one'll stay out, eat at his club or a chop house, no doubt, and she'll want a tray.'

  His words were confirmed a moment later when Miss Armitage, tall and thin, came in, looking pale and exhausted. She sighed deeply and asked if someone would make her mistress a coddled egg.

  'Is that all she wants?' Jenny demanded.

  'It's all she says she can eat. But I'll take up more later on. What is there? And where is Cook?'

  'Gone.'

  'Oh, yes, I remember. And Mr Drummond. I'm afraid I'd forgotten in all the confusion.' She sank down onto a stool and leaned against the table. 'She wants me to sit up with her all night, but I'll fall asleep on the chair.'

  'Give her an extra dose of laudanum, and then she'll be asleep all night and you can go to your own bed,' Maggie advised.

  Miss Armitage shuddered. 'How can you suggest that? I'd be accused of poisoning her.'

  Maggie, wide-eyed, clapped her hands over her mouth. 'Lawks, I forgot!'

  'She's worked herself up into a fury accusing everyone else of poisoning her beloved husband. Not that he was her beloved when he was alive. You should have heard them sometimes! They thought I couldn't hear them when they were in her bedroom, but the door into her dressing room doesn't fit properly.'

  'A likely story,' Maggie muttered, but under her breath, and only Luke heard her.

  'What did they quarrel about?' Suky asked, agog.

  'The usual. Money, she was spending too much. And women, he was chasing too many and spending on them what he grudged her. And the Viscount, he spent too much on clothes and cards and he chased loose women instead of finding an heiress to marry.'

  'He'll marry now, if only ter get an 'eir and do 'is brother out of the succession,' Joseph predicted.

  ‘Young Percy's dead,’ Sam reminded
him.

  'Lord, in all the fuss I'd forgot! Then who's next? The dishonourable Frederick? He's the old man's on'y male relative, ain't he?'

  'Ooh, when the new Earl weds we'll 'ave another mistress,' Maggie said, ignoring this. 'D'you know who he fancies?'

  Miss Armitage tutted. 'Not yet. It's far too soon. He'll have to wait at least a year.'

  'But they don't need ter wait ter spend. They can both spend all they choose to, now, an' good luck to 'em,' Joseph said.

  ***

  The Countess, contrary to their expectations, wanted no more than her coddled egg. The new Earl didn't return. They ate their supper, proud of their accomplishments in having contrived it, in the servants' hall undisturbed by the usual routine. Luke, restless, was making his way back upstairs, convinced there was something he had missed in the Earl's bedroom, when Jenny came running after him.

  'Luke, I'm afraid,' she said, glancing over her shoulder.

  'But why? What have you to be afraid of?'

  'The doctor. He accused me of putting that cy – whatever it is, in the chocolate.'

  'Nonsense! You can't even say it, I doubt if you even knew it existed before today. And where would you get it?'

  'That won't matter to them if they want ter find someone ter take the blame. What'll they do ter me?'

  'The best way of stopping them is to find out what really happened,' Luke said bracingly. 'I'm in just as much danger, probably more, since they're more likely to believe I would know where to get the stuff. We were the only people who had the opportunity, apart from anyone in the kitchens. Let's start there. What's the normal routine? When did you go down for it? Who makes the chocolate?'

  'Hold on, that's a lot o' questions!'

  'When do you go down for it?'

  'A few minutes after the clock strikes the quarter. I daren't be late with it, see, and I like to make sure it's ready in time. Sometimes Cook forgets.'

  'She wasn't there yesterday, though, was she?'

  'Yes, she was. She and Drummond 'adn't gone.'