Lord Deverill's Secret

  Maria called for her promptly in the carriage and together Cassandra, Maria and Harry set out for Granmere Park. Maria gossiped comfortably all the way there, telling Cassandra of everything she had done since they had last seen each other, and Cassandra told Maria most of what she had been doing, so that the journey passed quickly and they soon found themselves at their destination.

  The house was ablaze with light as they approached, forming a bright spot in the gloom. Rain was falling steadily from the already darkening sky and Maria’s coachman held an umbrella over the ladies as they descended from the carriage and went into the house. Harry followed them, cursing the weather.

  Once inside, they found that they were not the first to arrive. There were already a large number of guests there, filling the magnificent hall with light and colour. The young ladies’ white muslins blended with the older ladies’ coloured silks; lace fans mixed with ostrich feathers; diamonds mixed with pearls; and all were set off by the marble columns and the splendid marble floor. The sound of violins drifted out from the ballroom, mixing with the lively chatter in the hall.

  Cassandra, Maria and Harry proceeded to the foot of the stairs where they were welcomed by Anne and her husband, Charles. Charles was a solid young man some five years older than Anne, with a good-natured air. After being welcomed, Cassandra, Maria and Harry went into the ballroom. It was a spacious room, and looked quite different to the last time they had seen it. Then, it had been an empty space, with high ceilings and large windows letting in the daylight. Now, it was full of life and colour, and was lit by hundreds of candles. A set of dancers were enjoying the cotillion, whilst other guests stood around the side of the room and talked.

  There were a number of people Cassandra recognized, and after nodding to her various acquaintances she found that her hand was sought by Mr. Kingsley. He was dressed in even greater style this evening. His coat was so tight he could barely move his arms, and his waistcoat glittered with gold thread. His stockings showed off a fine calf, and his black pumps adorned his dainty feet. As he led her out on to the floor, she glanced instinctively at his wrist. No, there was no mole. Laughing at herself for suspecting him—how could he have tried to drown her, when men and women bathed separately?—she allowed her gaze to wander over the room. She could not see Justin, and wondered if he had arrived.

  “…run of bad luck,” Mr. Kingsley was saying, when she returned her attention to him. “Went to the races again and lost again. Thought m’horse would do it. Good form. But came in last. Commiserated with Goddard. His run of luck’s been worse than mine. Takes it like a man. Don’t complain. Laughs it off. That’s the spirit. Don’t know where he gets the blunt from. Doesn’t work. Father a pauper. Lives on tick. But he seems to manage. Joined him in the refreshment tent. Queer cove. Doesn’t care a button for his clothes. Doesn’t know a mailcoach from a waterfall.”

  Fortunately, Cassandra knew he was referring to styles of cravats, and made a suitably astonished exclamation.

  “Knew you’d be shocked,” said Mr. Kingsley seriously.

  By the time the dance came to an end, there was still no sign of Justin. Cassandra danced with an officer, resplendent in his scarlet coat, and her hand was then solicited by Lord Armington.

  “Will you give me the honour of this dance?” he asked.

  “I’d be delighted,” she replied.

  As she took his hand, she glanced at his wrist. There was no mole.

  I’m becoming suspicious of everyone, she thought with an inward sigh. But in the circumstances, she felt it was better to be suspicious of everyone, no matter how innocent they seemed, rather than find herself in danger again.

  “I have not seen you recently,” he said, as the dance began. “I looked for you at the assembly rooms last week, but you were not there.”

  “No,” she said, without revealing where she had been.

  “A pity. You will be going next week?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “My plans are not fixed.”

  “I see.”

  He turned the conversation to the recent change in the weather, and from there to the theatre and the shops. Cassandra joined in, but she found the conversation something of a strain and was glad when the dance was over. She wanted to speak to Justin, and everything else seemed unimportant.

  She was about to rejoin Maria and Harry when she saw the Kerriths at the far side of the room. As she watched the beautiful Miss Kerrith flirting with her fan, Cassandra had a sudden flash of memory. The lace on the fan reminded her of the lace used to trim Miss Kerrith’s bathing cap. The young beauty had been swimming at the same time as Cassandra. What if she had been the one to push her under the water?

  Cassandra had been convinced that the attempts on her life had had something to do with her brother, but what if that was not the case? What if they had been made for a different reason? Miss Kerrith had seen Justin taking her into supper at the assembly rooms. What if she had sensed a rival, and decided to put her out of the way? It seemed absurd, and yet Miss Kerrith had also been at the races….

  Overcome with curiosity, Cassandra moved nearer Miss Kerrith. Had the heiress a mole? It was impossible to tell. She was wearing long white evening gloves. But if she went to the ladies’ withdrawing room at any time during the evening she might take them off.

  Cassandra found her attention claimed by a jovial old man who had known her father and she enjoyed reminiscing with him. Afterwards, she talked to a dowager she had met in the library. But all the time she watched Miss Kerrith, and followed her from the room when that young lady withdrew.

  It was cool in the corridor. Cassandra followed Miss Kerrith to a small room that had been set aside for the use of the ladies. A number of maids were there, waiting for their mistresses in case they needed anything. Some were already ministering to their mistresses, mending torn hems or passing them fresh handkerchiefs.

  Miss Kerrith called imperiously to her maid and commanded the girl to dab her temples with lavender water, berating her for using too much on one temple and not enough on the other. Then she stripped off her evening gloves and, snatching the lavender water from her maid, dabbed some of it on her own wrists.

  Seizing her chance, Cassandra crossed the room.

  “What a beautiful scent,” she said, taking Miss Kerrith’s hand before she could protest. “It really is quite lovely.”

  Under pretence of smelling the lavender, Cassandra examined Miss Kerrith’s wrists, only to feel foolish as again she saw there was no mole. Miss Kerrith looked astonished at Cassandra’s behaviour, but soon melted before the flattery, and revealed that the scent had been specially made for her to a secret family recipe.

  Cassandra congratulated her on her taste, then made her excuses and left the withdrawing room. So Miss Kerrith had not tried to drown her. But as she returned to the ballroom, Cassandra realized she had not been able to examine the wrists of Miss Kerrith’s mother.

  Hardly had she taken her place at the side of the room when she felt a presence at her shoulder, and turned round to see Justin standing there. He was immaculately dressed in tailcoat and knee breeches, and his dark hair had been brushed into a fashionable style. He smiled down at her and her heart missed a beat.

  “Might I have this dance?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said, knowing that the dance would offer them an opportunity of talking without attracting the attention of the gossip mongers.

  “I have found out Elwin’s plans for the next two weeks,” he said, as the music began.

  “How did you manage it?” she asked.

  “His valet is dissatisfied. Elwin is a difficult master, and pays poorly. He should know better. Disgruntled servants are always eager to talk.”

  “Is he going anywhere I can go, too?” asked Cassandra.

  “Yes. He’s going to the Pavilion next week.”

  “The Pavilion?” she asked in surprise.

  The steps of the dance parted them, but when they came to
gether again, he said, “Yes. The Pavilion. The Prince of Wales has a range of friends drawn from all walks of life. Some are from the nobility, but others, like Elwin, are from the lower orders. They are good company, being witty and charming. As long as a man can amuse him, the Prince is satisfied. He cares for nothing else. Let a man once bore him, and that man will never be invited to the Pavilion again.”

  “But I cannot go there,” said Cassandra, disappointed.

  “Yes, you can. I have an invitation for the same night as Elwin. I can arrange for you to be there as well.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “The Prince is always willing to invite beautiful young ladies to his parties,” he remarked.

  “Would Maria be able to come, too?”

  “Sadly not. But the Prince likes my sister and he will be willing for me to take her with me. I know she will be happy to chaperon you. She has never been to the Pavilion, and has always wanted to go. She wants to see if the Prince’s chimney piece is as splendid as her own!”

  Cassandra smiled, then became serious again. “Then it seems that that is what we must do. But do you really think the murderer would strike at the Pavilion?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem the kind of place to suit an accident.”

  “On the contrary, nothing would be easier than to stage an accident at the door. There is always a crush of carriages at the start and end of the evening, and a swift push could send you beneath one. It would seem like nothing but a regrettable accident, and in all the confusion and excitement of arrival, no one would see that you had been pushed.”

  Cassandra shivered. The idea seemed suddenly dangerous. What if the murderer managed to do what they wanted to do? A quick push, a rearing horse, a carriage wheel…

  “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” said Justin, as if reading her thoughts. “In fact, the more I think about it, the more I don’t like the idea. It’s too great a risk. We will abandon the plan.”

  “No,” said Cassandra. “It is a risk, it’s true, but I must bring this to an end. I will be returning to my estate next week. Lizzie will be coming home, and I don’t want her put in danger if the murderer is still loose. I want to have the matter finished with as quickly as possible.”

  “Very well. There will be a lot of men there to protect you, dressed as coachmen and footmen. Some of the guests will be there to protect you, too. I will be there, although I will not be with you. If we are to tempt the villain to strike, then we must make him think you are not being watched.”

  She nodded.

  “I hope he strikes at the start of the evening, rather than at the end,” she said lightly. “Then I’ll be able to enjoy my evening at the Pavilion. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  “It’s certainly a place to be seen,” said Justin.

  “Rupert was invited once,” she said, determined to turn the conversation on to lighter ground. “He said it was full of dragons. He didn’t mean live ones, I hope?”

  “No,” he said with a smile. “But you will see plenty of them, all the same. They are on the wallpaper and coiled round pillars. They are one of the Prince’s favourite motifs.”

  She warmed to the conversation. Despite the danger, she was looking forward to seeing the Prince’s home.

  “I’ve heard a lot about the Pavilion. Is it as exotic as it sounds?” she asked, as the dance came to an end.

  “It’s like walking into a dream,” said Justin, as he walked her from the floor. “The Prince has too much time on his hands and not enough to do. He seems to spend most of his time these days remodelling the Pavilion. Goodness knows what it will look like when it is finished. Like something out of the Arabian Nights, I suspect.”

  “It will be something to tell Lizzie about,” said Cassandra.

  As long as Mr. Elwin doesn’t succeed with his plan, she thought. But she did not say it out loud. She told herself that she was in no danger. Justin would be there, as well as a large number of other people, all making sure she was protected. And she, too, would be on her guard. Knowing when danger was likely to strike, and in what way, she was armed against it. She might lose her footing if she was pushed, but she would not be taken by surprise and she would be able to regain it. Or so she hoped. She concentrated instead on thinking of the treat in store. Not many people were invited to the Pavilion, and she meant to make the most of it.

  The next morning brought another letter from Lizzie. Cassandra was glad of it. She found it hard to settle to anything, knowing that soon she would be offering herself up as a murderer’s bait. But her sister’s light-hearted epistle was just what she needed. She took the letter from Moll, who had brought it into the parlour.

  “Sit down, Moll,” she said, “and we’ll see what she has to say.”

  Moll needed no second bidding. She settled herself on a chair by the fireplace, directly opposite Cassandra, and listened with rapt attention as Cassandra began.

  Darling, darling Cassie,

  Thank you so much for saying Jane can come and stay.

  Moll looked at Cassandra enquiringly.

  “In her last letter, Lizzie asked me if Jane could stay. I read it in the country,” she explained.

  Moll nodded, satisfied, and Cassandra continued with the letter.

  She is in your det FOREVER. We have been to the library and have borrowed a book by Mrs. Radcliffe which is quite HORRID….

  “Horrid seems to be her favourite word at the moment,” said Cassandra, breaking off.

  “Aah,” said Moll sagely.

  Cassandra began to read again.

  …It is all about a heroin who gets married and has a misterious husband and Jane and I are NEVER getting married unless we meet a markwiss, and Jane says she would prefer a dook. But I am going to marry a markwiss with a scar across his cheek because he has been in a duel fighting for the honour of the lady he loves…

  “I wonder who that might be?” asked Cassandra with a laugh.

  “It’ll be Miss Lizzie,” said Moll seriously. “A nice marquess would be just the thing.”

  I’d be at a ball and I’d have a ostrich fether fan. I’d waft it in front of me and say, Thank you, my lord, you may tempt me to a glass of shampain, and How kind of you, Your Grace. A dish of oysters would be most welcum. Then I’d see him—my markwiss—and he’d see me and say to his friend “Who is that bewty? The one with the gowlden hair? Introduce me.” He’d ask me to dance, and then he’d ask me to marry him.

  “Ahh,” said Moll again, entranced by Lizzie’s picture. “That’s how it’ll be.”

  “She might not marry a marquess,” Cassandra pointed out reasonably.

  “No,” said Moll, roused to battle on behalf of her beloved Lizzie, “she might marry a prince instead,” and she glared at Cassandra, as though daring her to contradict her.

  Cassandra did not dare, but instead folded the letter and put it away.

  “That might be Lizzie’s prince now,” said Cassandra humorously as there came a rap at the door.

  “Hrumph!” said Moll, standing up. “John’s gone to see to the horses. I’d best see who that is.”

  It will be Justin, thought Cassandra, tidying her hair in front of the mirror, but when the drawing-room door opened it was not Justin who was shown in, it was Lord Armington.

  “Lord Armington,” said Cassandra in surprise.

  “Miss Paxton. I am glad to find you at home.”

  “It is good of you to call. Won’t you sit down?”

  “Thank you, but I prefer to stand.”

  Cassandra had a sudden presentiment of what was to come. She knew that any young lady would be glad to receive an offer from Lord Armington, with his dark good looks, his elegant dress, and his air of good breeding, but if he asked for her hand, she knew she must turn him down.

  “I am glad I have found you at home as I have something particular to say to you,” said Lord Armington. “You must know how I esteem and admire you. From the first moment I saw you in the Assembly Ro
oms I was struck with your face, and the time I have spent in your company since has taught me that your breeding and character match your beauty.” He knelt elegantly before her. “Miss Paxton, will you be so good as to bestow upon me your hand in marriage?”

  “Lord Armington, do, please get up,” said Cassandra. “I am very sorry…it is such an honour…I am conscious of the very great favour you have done me in asking me to be your wife…but I’m afraid I can’t accept.”

  “Not accept?”

  His tone of voice, and his expression, betrayed his surprise. And small wonder, thought Cassandra with an inward sigh. A man of his worth must never have imagined that his suit would be rejected.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He behaved with dignity and decorum, standing up and dusting an imaginary speck of dirt from his knees, as though kneeling on the floor and then rising again was the most ordinary occupation.

  “May I ask why not?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid I don’t love you,” she said.

  “Ah.” He became thoughtful. Then he said, “I believe this is your first summer of engagements?”

  “Yes, it is, but that has nothing to do with the matter, I assure you.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Only time will tell. You will allow me to say that it is not unusual for young ladies to look for love when they first come out. I know that your entry into society has been delayed because of the sad circumstances surrounding your family in recent years, and I understand that you have seen little yet of life. Perhaps when you have had a chance to do so you will feel differently. My own feelings will not change. I cannot profess a deep and abiding passion, but having outgrown my youth I am pleased rather than otherwise, as passion can be very uncomfortable. But I have an eye for beauty, and you are the most exquisite young lady I have ever seen. It is no idle compliment,” he said, when she tried to protest. “I am something of a connoisseur, and I can tell you that your beauty has no equal. I would still like to be able to call you my wife. At the moment the charms of a comfortable, I may even say luxurious, establishment, do not weigh heavily with you, but in the future, perhaps, they might. I should also mention that your sister would be most welcome. There is plenty of room for her at Armington House. She would have all the best masters, in addition to her seminary, and I would regard it as my duty—indeed my pleasure—to help you arrange her come out, and to give her a marriage portion, so that she might be well settled in life.”