Rose looked out of the carriage window. Harry was just emerging from the castle, pulling on his driving gloves. Infuriating man. Perhaps if she went to some parties in London he might be there. It would be pleasant to let him know just how infuriating he was.
“What I don’t like,” grumbled the earl as the carriage jolted forwards, “is Hedley being so cheerful about getting his wife’s money.”
“He won’t live long to enjoy it,” said Rose. “The syphilis is already beginning to eat up his appearance.”
“That’s enough of that,” snapped the earl. “A young girl should not know of such things.”
“Maybe if Mary Gore-Desmond had known of such things she would still be alive,” retorted Rose.
“Don’t speak to your father like that,” said Lady Polly. “I know your poor nerves are overset by your dreadful experience, but there is no need for you to be so…coarse.”
¦
The Peterson sisters were driven off in their motor car while Miss Fairfax followed in her carriage, accompanied by Sir Gerald.
“Faster,” Harriet urged the chauffeur. “I want to leave her behind. We really need to write to Mother, Debs, and get her off our backs. She was bad enough before, but she’ll ruin our chances, twittering and ogling with that awful creature on her arm.”
“Goodbye, rotten castle,” said Deborah, as the car rolled over the drawbridge. “As I told you, there was something fishy about Lady Hedley shooting herself. Rose was there. I tried to ask her this morning but her mother interrupted and pulled her away. Also, I sent my maid over to Creinton for some ribbons and she told me that Captain Harry, Rose and their servants were singing in the street. For money!”
“Can’t have been them. The Earl of Hadshire is most frightfully rich.”
“Ah, but the captain’s reported to have very little over his army pension,” said Deborah. “It must be so demeaning to be poor. He should marry Rose. I mean, her parents should be glad to get anyone for her now.”
“Oh, that scandal about Blandon will be over and forgotten. She’s got money and a title and looks. She won’t stay on the shelf for long,” said Harriet.
“You know what I think?” Deborah clutched her hat as the car swung out onto the main road. “I think Rose is the type to make things happen. Mark my words, she’ll be embroiled in another scandal before Christmas.”
“I hear her parents are shipping her off to India.”
“Well, all I can say is poor India,” said Deborah. “She’ll start another mutiny or something.”
Freddy Pomfret and Tristram Baker-Willis and their valets were deposited at Creinton Railway Station by one of the castle carriages.
“Absolutely poisonous visit,” complained Freddy, listlessly poking the fire in the first-class waiting-room. “Deaths and shootings. Boring melodrama. Like being trapped between the covers of one of Mrs. Henry Wood’s novels.”
“And that Rose creature,” said Tristram. “Getting us into trouble. That Trumpington woman was leering at us in the most horrible way. Turns my stomach to think of it.”
¦
Freddy produced a silver flask. “Here. Have a swig of this. I filled it up with Hedley’s brandy.”
Tristam took the flask from him and downed a great swallow. “That’s better. We didn’t have a chance with the Peterson girls after that. Tell you what. Lady Rose is going to London. Let’s think up some way to get even.”
The waiting room began to shake under the thunder of the approaching train. “Here we go,” said Freddy. “London, here we come.”
¦
Margaret Bryce-Cuddlestone, accompanied by the Trumping-tons, stared bleakly out of the window. The landscape was white, in the grip of a severe hoar-frost.
She could only be grateful that she had escaped with her reputation intact. She did not believe for a moment the reasons given for Lady Hedley’s taking her own life. Remembering her talk with Rose, she was sure that somehow Rose had found out that Lady Hedley was a murderess and had challenged her. Thank goodness it was being hushed up or she might have had to appear in the dock as a witness. The whole experience had shaken her. She could only pray that she was not pregnant. Her menstruation was not due until the following week.
In that moment, Margaret made up her mind. She would stop looking for love and this time she would accept the proposal of the first man who asked her to marry him.
Mrs. Trumpington nudged her husband awake. “I wonder if I should go to India with the Hadshires’ gel. There’s something unstable about her. At first I thought, well, jolly good, free holiday and all that. Bit of travel. But the more I think about it, the less I like it. I mean, heat and flies and Rose likely to get embroiled in something awful. This suffragette business! She’s just the sort to go around campaigning for equal rights for the Indians and befriending the untouchables. Then one has to think of the distance and socializing with all those frightfully boring memsahibs. No, I won’t go. You’d miss me, wouldn’t you, dear?”
“What? What?”
“I said, you’d miss me.”
“Yes, yes,” grumbled Mr. Trumpington. “Now can I go back to sleep?”
¦
Miss Fairfax and Gerald sat holding hands. “I am so glad I met you,” she said.
“I’m amazed a charming lady like yourself never married,” said Gerald, gazing into her eyes and mentally paying off his tailor’s bills.
“Oh, I had my chances. But would you believe it? The men in Virginia are every bit as mercenary as they are here. Not you, of course, dear heart.”
“You had to fight off adventurers?”
“On my poor little dowry?”
“My poppet, everyone knows your family is extremely rich.”
“That’s my sister, Clarrie. She did well. Married Burton, who is rolling in railroad money. She’s paying for my trip to London and all my expenses.”
Gerald felt as if a cold dark stone had settled in his stomach. He tried to pull his hand away but she held it in a firm grip.
Clive Fraser, Bertram Brookes, Harry Trenton and Neddie Fee-mantle had only journeyed as far as the village pub. Drawn together by a feeling of failure, they set about getting drunk. Each had hoped to become engaged to one of the American sisters and put the sisters’ obvious lack of interest in any of them down to the odd happenings at the castle.
They got so drunk and obnoxious that the landlord had to send a message to the castle appealing to the marquess to come and get rid of them.
¦
The remaining ladies, equally disappointed, were heading towards London. Perhaps each in her way was more shocked by the happenings than Rose. For a brief spell their lives, which had been as well-padded by wealth and class as their fashionable hourglass figures, had been invaded by a darker world. Maisie Chatterton and Lady Sarah Trenton longed for the bright lights and shops of London. Frederica Sutherland planned to stay only two days in London before journeying to her home in Scotland.
Maisie Chatterton decided she would never lisp again. Her mother had told her that men were fascinated by a girlish lisp, but all they did was to stare at her and then ask her to repeat what she had just said.
Lady Sarah planned to hint at the horror of the dark happenings at the castle and at the next ball conveniently swoon into the arms of the most handsome man present.
Frederica Sutherland was determined to convince her parents that there was no need for her ever to go south again, no need for her to leave her beloved dogs and horses.
She turned in the carriage and looked back at Castle Telby standing up square and bleak against the winter sky. She considered herself a jolly good sort, good at hunting and shooting, better than the men. She could not wait to get out of these frippery clothes and get some decent tweeds on again.
¦
Harry felt quite low as Becket unlocked the door of the house in Water Street. His leg was hurting and he put it down to that. Becket went upstairs to unpack Harry’s bags and Harry lit the fire in his front parlour and settled
