Adelia closed her eyes for a moment and thought about the dreadful year Felicia had endured. She sounded happy now, and if being away from Tavy Castle was what it took to make her happy, then Adelia wanted her daughter to stay away for ever. And after all, Lady Katharine was now firmly ensconced in the castle itself, having moved out of the gatehouse and into her true role as the overseer of the day to day life of the place. It had been semi-mothballed, but was still inhabited and staffed, and no doubt would be inching its way through a series of improvements to the accommodation.
Lady Katharine had risen beyond the shock and scandal that had emerged when her own son had been tried for a double murder. The other crimes had been dropped; murder was considered to be quite enough. Mrs Carstairs and her coterie had rallied round and led the way, ensuring that Lady Katharine was supported. She was not welcomed into polite society, of course; that could never happen again. But Lady Katharine was not going to miss what she had never had, after all.
Oscar Brodie was to hang.
The Countess had been shoved out into the gatehouse where she was attended to by a sour-faced nurse obtained through an agency in Plymouth. While Adelia didn’t think that they had deliberately requested “the most miserable attendant you have on your books” she also didn’t think that they bothered to hunt for a pleasant sort of companion. The Countess was going to have to put up with what she got.
The Countess had never written to Adelia.
But there was another letter for Adelia which had come from Plymouth. This one was a long thin envelope in ivory, containing an invitation on linen paper, written in large and exuberant calligraphy. She squealed and Theodore laid his newspaper down. There was egg in his whiskers.
“Good news? Or a mouse in the toast rack?” he asked.
“I believe the rodent issue has been dealt with. No, we have been invited to a wedding.”
He blinked. “They’re all married already.”
“Oh, do catch up, dear. Not our own daughters. Lady Agnes and Captain Everard are to be wed!”
He lifted his chin and gazed at the ceiling for a brief moment. “Of course they are. You knew that would happen from the moment they met. I do not think it is a squealing matter.”
“You have a heart of stone, dear. We shall go, of course, and you will be amiable and pleasant.”
“Yes, dear,” he said dutifully. “What’s this?” As he moved his newspaper to one side, he noticed that he, too, had some correspondence. He tore it open without examining the envelope.
She didn’t ask who it was from. He received all manner of letters. Some were from friends and acquaintances but an increasing number were from strangely eager members of the public who had read of his exploits in the newspapers.
But then he said, “Humph. Curious!”
“What is it?”
“Our nephew Wilson has written to me. Which is, in itself, rather odd.”
Wilson was the thirteen-year-old son of Adelia’s brother Alfred. She had been drawn into sending money to Alfred over the past few years and she had kept this fact a secret from Theodore. The longer that she had concealed it, the harder it had become to confess anything to him. Alfred had been sliding into penniless obscurity, and she was – if she were brutally honest – ashamed of him. And she was ashamed of being ashamed of her own brother. To make amends, she had paid for Wilson to attend a good school from September.
She felt cold as she realised that she was doing exactly what The Countess had done, all those years ago. Secrets. Unnecessary secrets. And that had ended with two deaths. She bit her lip.
Theodore tossed the letter over to her. “It doesn’t say very much. What do you make of it?”
She scanned it. It was, as Theodore said, very brief, and simply thanked Theodore “for his generosity.”
“Oh,” she said.
“What generosity?” Theodore asked in confusion.
“Maybe this was not meant for you. Perhaps it is the wrong letter in the envelope.”
“It is my name at the top of the paper.”
“Indeed so. Well, he is a young man, with many things on his mind.”
“What is it with young men these days? Don’t tell me he will be going the way of Oscar Brodie. I do feel that modern life is getting too fast, you know. Young people today have far too many things to think about and it’s all a bit much.”
“Stop right there. You were about to say ‘when I was a boy’ and frankly, dear Theodore, when you were a boy, Queen Victoria was barely on the throne and everyone thought travelling on a railway would cause one’s hair to fall out or something. Did they even have locomotives when you were young?”
Theodore subsided with a grumble. Adelia took the letter and scooped up the rest of her correspondence too, and excused herself swiftly, before the matter could be pursued.
Once she was out in the corridor, she paused and got her breath, trying to slow her pounding heart. For she had received one more letter, too. It was not from Wilson.
This one was from her brother Alfred. And she knew that her past was going to catch up with her very, very soon.
The End
Thank you for reading! This was book three in the series. The others are:
Murder at Mondial Castle (already available)
The Viscount’s Deadly Game (already available)
A Murderous Inheritance (this book)
And, coming on 26th June 2020, is The Earl’s Mortal Enemy. You can pre-order book four now! Just follow these links:
Click here for Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085WSR9CQ
Click here for Amazon.co.uk https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B085WSR9CQ
Click here for Amazon.ca https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B085WSR9CQ
Click here for Amazon.com.au https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B085WSR9CQ
THE END
