Lucasta Page 7

  ‘I think you may understand that,’ replied the viscount. He had reached the landing by now and paused to strip off his gloves, a faint, questioning lift to his brows.

  ‘I also understand that you have returned from Shropshire, my lord, by way of Bromsgrove and Hansford. That was on Friday, was it not, my lord?’

  ‘Aye, that is so. May I ask where this is leading?’

  ‘Aye, sir. On Friday last, Sir Talbot Bradfield was shot on Hansford Common. We have a witness who says you murdered him.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  When Lord Kennington did not call in Sophia Street the following day Mrs Symonds was disappointed but not surprised.

  ‘Depend upon it, my loves,’ she said to her daughters, ‘he will not want to seem too eager in his suit.’

  However, when another morning passed without a visit she was less sanguine and even inclined to be indignant.

  ‘We have stayed indoors particularly that we might not miss him,’ she grumbled, ‘and this is how he repays us.’

  ‘I thought we stayed in because I had nothing decent to wear,’ put in Lucasta.

  ‘That may have been another reason, but you know we decided my tawny silk would do very nicely for you now we have let down the hem. You shall wear it to Lady Redwater’s rout tonight. We have waited long enough for Lord Kennington, he must now take pot luck upon finding us at home, for we really have no interest in him.’

  ‘And as you said, Mama, we might hear news of him at Lady Redwater’s,’ said Camilla, ruining the effect of her mother’s studied indifference.

  Lucasta was as eager as her mother to go out: she, too, had been expecting the viscount to call and was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. It was therefore with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation rather than her usual trepidation that she made her preparations and allowed her mother’s coiffeuse to arrange her hair, concealing its shorter length with artful curls. They arrived at Lady Redwater’s fine town house in good time and Mrs Symonds introduced her eldest daughter with a smooth explanation of her sudden appearance in Town. Then, flanked by Camilla and Lucasta, she launched herself into the company, alert for news of the viscount.

  They had not been in the room five minutes before they heard his name. Mrs Symonds immediately turned to the speaker.

  You were talking of Lord Kennington, I believe, sir: is he not here tonight? I made sure to see him …’

  The gentleman looked at her in surprise.

  ‘My dear ma’am, you will look for him in vain, I fear.’

  ‘It is best is you do not look for him at all,’ tittered the lady on his arm. Observing Lucasta’s puzzled look she leaned closer and whispered, ‘He has been clapped up.’

  ‘Never was I so taken in,’ the gentleman shook his head. ‘Why, I was going to offer him my black mare, but not now, not now!’

  ‘Why, what has he done?’ asked Mrs Symonds, looking around in astonishment.

  ‘Why the fellow’s a murderer!’

  ‘No!’

  The gentleman turned to Lucasta, shaking his head at her.

  ‘I know, Miss Symonds, it was a shock to us all, but it is beyond doubt. There are witnesses.’

  Her mouth felt dry. She forced herself to speak calmly.

  ‘Does anyone know the detail?’

  ‘Aye, ’tis all over Town. He waylaid Sir Talbot Bradfield and shot him dead.’

  Camilla gave a small shriek. Lucasta grew cold. She remembered the driver of the yellow curricle, recalled his loud bullying voice and the malevolent glare he had given Adam as they drove away from the inn at Bromsgrove. Surely Adam had not – she could not contemplate such a thing. Clutching her fan tightly to disguise her shaking fingers, she said in a whisper, ‘When – when was this?’

  ‘Friday last, in broad daylight as I understand it. Of course they have him safe in Newgate now.’

  ‘Last Friday, then it cannot be. I—’

  ‘My dear, there is a tear in your gown. Come now: we must see to it before it becomes too noticeable.’ Mrs Symonds caught Lucasta’s arm and bore her away, Camilla hurrying along behind her.

  ‘We must go to the magistrates,’ hissed Lucasta. ‘I must tell them I was with Lord Kennington last Friday. I can vouch for him.’

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ muttered her mother, drawing her rapidly through the crowded room.

  ‘But Mama!’

  ‘Hush, now, until we are alone.’ Mrs Symonds drew her daughters towards an empty sofa. ‘Let us sit for a moment and consider.’

  ‘There is nothing to consider,’ whispered Lucasta. ‘We must go, immediately.’

  ‘There is everything to consider!’ her mother contradicted her. ‘How would it look if we rushed away this very minute? No, Lucasta, we must stay and learn what more we can about this dreadful affair.’

  Lucasta realized that a crowded assembly was not the best place to argue with her mother and held her peace, but the next few hours were unbearably difficult. Everyone was talking of Lord Kennington’s arrest and conjecture was rife about the reasons for the crime, from gambling debts to amorous intrigues. As the evening wore on Lucasta’s spirits sank even lower, for everyone seemed ready to believe the viscount was guilty, and when she tentatively suggested there could be some mistake heads were shaken, and the word ‘witnesses’ was thrown at her until she was ready to scream. By the time the carriage was ordered for their journey back to Sophia Street she had developed a sick headache, and sank back into her seat in the darkened carriage with a sigh of relief.

  ‘What a dreadful evening,’ exclaimed Camilla, squeezing in beside her. ‘So dull – all anyone wanted to talk of was the murder.’

  ‘But no one seems to know very much about it,’ sighed Lucasta. ‘There is a great deal of gossip and speculation, but very little real information. You must let me speak to the magistrate, Mama.’

  ‘That is out of the question.’

  Lucasta peered through the darkness, trying to make out her mother’s face.

  ‘But I was with Lord Kennington on Friday, I can prove that he is innocent!’

  ‘Can you? Do you think the revelation that you were traipsing around the country with the viscount, unchaperoned, would do anything to help his case? Everyone would conclude that you were his mistress. Your reputation would be ruined and nothing you said in Lord Kennington’s defence would be believed – more likely you would be clapped in Newgate with him!’

  The truth of her mother’s words dowsed Lucasta like cold water. Hot tears pricked her eyes.

  ‘But I must try,’ she whispered. ‘I must do something.’

  ‘You must do nothing,’ insisted Lady Symonds. ‘If Lord Kennington thought your evidence could help him I have no doubt the magistrate would have sought you out by now. Be thankful the viscount is too much of a gentleman to drag your name into this matter.’

  ‘But he is innocent, and I know it, so—’

  ‘Lucasta, if your father was an earl then we might be able to carry off such a scandal, but you cannot admit that you were with Lord Kennington without bringing the whole family into disrepute. You saw for yourself tonight how everyone has turned against him already: would you range yourself on his side?’

  ‘Yes I would, because he is not a murderer!’

  ‘If that is the case then justice will be done and he will be acquitted.’

  ‘But Mama—’

  ‘Enough!’ Mrs Symonds shrieked and put her hands up to cover her ears. ‘Lucasta, would you ruin Camilla’s chances of a good marriage as well as your own? There is nothing useful you can do in this, and I will not allow you to jeopardize Camilla’s season.’

  ‘No, I think you are being very selfish, Lucasta.’ Camilla added her voice to the argument. ‘If you admit the truth you will make our family a laughing stock.’

  The carriage came to a halt outside their house and in the dim flare of the torches Lucasta could see the closed look on her mother’s face.

  ‘Camilla is right,’ said Mr
s Symonds. ‘You would ruin us all to no purpose, and then I doubt even Squire Woodcote would marry you!’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Viscount Kennington had heard much of Newgate but he had never expected to experience it for himself. Looking round his cell, he reflected ruefully that he had lived in worse lodgings. A deep purse ensured that he had a room to himself with modest comforts, although the smell of dirt and decay that permeated the building reminded him constantly of his surroundings. He had refused Gretton’s pleas to be allowed to accompany him, saying he could be of more use outside the walls than within, but as he prepared to face his second day in prison the idea of a prolonged incarceration was very daunting. He lay on the hard bed with his hands linked behind his head and watched the first grey fingers of dawn light creep into the room. It was too soon to despair: once the city was awake his lawyer would be at work again on his behalf, and Gretton would be returning shortly with a fresh change of clothes for him. He heard the faint tap, tap of footsteps in the stone corridor. Heeled shoes – a female. His mouth twisted. At this hour of the morning she would be leaving some prisoner’s cell and most likely a couple of guineas richer for her trouble. He was surprised therefore when the footsteps stopped outside his door. He sat up, frowning, as the keys rattled in the lock. The gaoler coughed and spat before announcing, ‘Visitor for ‘ee.’

  The door opened and a figure totally enveloped in a black cloak glided into the room. The viscount got to his feet, staring, but the figure did not move until the gaoler had retreated once more, then two small, gloved hands reached up and pushed back the hood of the cloak.

  ‘Lucasta!’ Lord Kennington stared at her. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’

  She gave him a wobbly smile.

  ‘That is a very poor greeting, my lord.’

  ‘You should not be here.’

  ‘I had to come, as soon as I learned what had happened to you.’ She put out her hands to him. ‘Oh Adam, what is being done to help you?’

  He took her hands and guided her to a chair – the only chair in the room – masking his own concerns in his efforts to reassure her.

  ‘Everything possible. You know I am not guilty, it is merely a matter of proving it.’ He spoke lightly, squeezing her fingers and releasing them as he resumed his seat on the edge of the bed. Her expression did not alter; her brown eyes were fixed upon him with a painful intensity.

  ‘The man who … died,’ she said slowly. ‘He was the one you quarrelled with at Bromsgrove?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you tell me what you know? I have heard nothing but rumours.’

  ‘Word did not take long to spread, then.’

  She coloured slightly.

  ‘Yes. I am sorry.’

  ‘Nay, why should you be sorry? And is everyone ready to hang me?’ He gave a savage laugh. ‘But of course they are. They will all be willing to think the worst of me!’

  ‘Not everyone, Adam!’

  ‘No? Then tell me, does your family know you are here? No, I thought as much. And would they approve? Your face gives me my answer. I cannot blame them for that. It is folly for you to be here, Lucasta.’

  Two spots of angry colour flamed on her cheeks.

  ‘It is not! I am as much involved in this as you, so I would very much appreciate you telling me what you are supposed to have done!’ She glared at him, such determination in her face that at last he uttered a soft laugh and nodded.

  ‘Very well, I will tell you what I know. When we left Bradfield at the Swan it would appear he continued to rail against me, and the landlord heard him say that he knew my direction and would come after me. He set off about an hour afterwards, with his valet beside him. Some time after this the valet was beating down the door of one of the farms that adjoins the northern edge of the common, saying they had been attacked by footpads.’

  ‘The same ones that attacked us!’

  ‘Possibly. Let me finish. The farmer and two of his farmhands accompanied the valet back to the carriage. Bradfield was lying on the ground beside it. He was dead. His dressing case had been forced open: the valet said that Bradfield had been carrying a valuable emerald necklace to Town. It would appear to have been stolen.’

  ‘A necklace! But—’

  The viscount held up his hand. ‘Let me finish the whole, Lucasta. The magistrate was summoned and it seems he put some effort into his investigations. His enquiries eventually led him to the Pigeons. You will imagine how our presence there would look – Jacob injured and the description of a young man named Smith who has since vanished – at any rate the magistrate thought it far too suspicious and came to London in search of me.’

  ‘But surely you explained to him that we had been set upon by footpads!’

  ‘Of course, but you will recall that at the time I declined to report the matter. Bradfield was found with a pistol in his hand: it had been fired, and the magistrate is convinced that it was this weapon that wounded Jacob.’ He shrugged. ‘It is assumed that following my quarrel with Bradfield, we waylaid him on the common, killed him and robbed him to make it appear the work of common thieves.’

  ‘Perhaps it was,’ said Lucasta. ‘Mayhap it was the same footpads that tried to rob us. If we could find them—’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that, will you go back to Hansford and ask everyone you meet if they are in the habit of robbing travellers?’

  ‘No of course not, but there must be ways.’ She frowned. The viscount was silent, watching her. It was no small comfort to know that her concern was all for him. At last she spoke again.

  ‘The other point that does not make sense is the necklace. It was in a dressing case, you say? I remember the valet carrying just such a case into the Swan. I thought at the time it must be very important for him to bestow so much attention on it. It was not a large item, so why would anyone break it open; why not take the whole case?’

  ‘That thought had occurred to me.’

  Her brown eyes widened. ‘Unless the thief knew it was there! Adam – what if Bradfield was killed for the necklace?’

  ‘It is possible. I will put that to my lawyer when he comes in later today. He is trying to persuade them to grant me bail, then I shall be able to pursue my own enquiries.’

  Lucasta twisted her hands together.

  ‘Adam, would it help if you told them that – that I was the young man?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he retorted. ‘In fact, it would complicate matters exceedingly.’

  ‘That is what Mama said when I suggested it.’ She sighed. ‘But I feel so helpless, knowing you are innocent and not being able to do anything about it.’

  ‘Knowing you can vouch for me is help enough for the present,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘At least your sister and mother need not doubt my innocence. Poor Camilla, how distraught she must be. Pray tell her – ah, but no one knows of your visit,’ He smothered a sigh and after a moment shook himself free of his depressing thoughts. ‘And no one must discover that you have been here, Luke.’ He rose and reached out to draw Lucasta to her feet. ‘Now, it is time you were gone: you are too careless of your reputation, Lucasta. But I am grateful for your coming here, never doubt that.’ He kissed her cheek before pulling her hood over her head. ‘Make sure you are not recognized leaving this place.’

  He banged on the door, and a shuffling step was heard. He took a last look at the shrouded figure in front of him and was aware of a feeling of desolation. He put out his hand, as if to hold her, then let it fall again. With a slight inclination of the head, the hooded figure turned and left the room without another word.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The breath-catching nervousness did not leave Lucasta until she was safely in her room again. It was still early and she passed only an incurious lackey on her way through the house. She felt very tired, and slightly depressed; after all, what had she achieved? Adam had said there was little she could do to help him and her slender purse was empty: she had bribed her maid not to te
ll anyone of her absence, then there had been a similar inducement to the footman who accompanied her. An extra charge had to be agreed before the hackney carriage would wait for her outside the gaol and as for the rest, it had disappeared into the clutching fist of the turnkey: he had demanded payment for every door unlocked on the way to Adam’s cell. She glanced at the little bracket clock on the mantel, it was not yet nine: her mama and Camilla rarely left their rooms until ten so she had plenty of time to change into a morning gown and while she did so her thoughts drifted back over her visit to Newgate. Adam was convinced that she should not admit her involvement in the whole affair, but knowing he was innocent was not enough, she wanted to prove it. Remembering what he had told her, it seemed to Lucasta that the valet held the key to the matter. He must have seen the attackers and would be able to explain to the magistrates that it could not have been Lord Kennington After all, there could be no disguising the viscount’s tall figure in its drab driving coat and fashionable beaver hat: no footpad would appear thus.

  Another problem presented itself: how was she to contact the man? She could not approach him and there was no one in her mother’s household whom she would trust with the task. The problem occupied her thoughts for the rest of the day, causing Camilla to complain that her sister was no company at all.

  ‘You are very stupid and dull today, Lucasta,’ she cried petulantly. ‘I vow I am out of all patience with you: you will be a poor companion at the tea gardens today.’

  ‘Then perhaps it would be best if I did not come with you!’ retorted Lucasta, her frayed nerves giving way.

  However, Mrs Symonds would not hear of her remaining behind and Lucasta was obliged to put on a smile with her new gown and to take her place in the party of pleasure.

  With Sir Oswald remaining at Oakwoods, Lady Symonds was obliged to rely upon her friends whenever a male escort was required, but there was never any shortage of gentlemen willing to accompany the beautiful Camilla and on their visit to the tea gardens in Chelsea they were accompanied by two respectable young gentlemen whom Lady Symonds relied upon to maintain propriety. Lucasta was relieved to find that she was not expected to contribute much to the conversation since both the gentlemen were besotted with Camilla and she was able to lose herself in her own thoughts as they all strolled through the gardens. It was very early in the season but an exceptionally mild March day had brought out the crowds. At one particularly busy intersection of paths they found themselves jostled on all sides and Lucasta jumped when someone close behind whispered her name.