An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (114 page)

“Yes, I know,” Caroline said, “but I wrote her along letter of apology explaining that when I heard that Papa and Mama were going abroad, I hurried off to them by post-chaise without thought or preparation.”

“But that was not exactly the truth,” Mrs. Edgmont said reproachfully.

“Now, Cousin Debby, you know that was the one possible explanation which would mollify my godmother. If she is vexed, there must be something else besides my absence which is annoying her.”

“There is indeed, Caroline, yet I hardly understand of what she writes.”

“Oh, tell me what she says,” Caroline said impatiently.

Mrs. Edgmont fumbled with the sheets of writing paper which were scrawled over with untidy handwriting.

“She speaks of rumours,” she said at length, peering short-sightedly at the letter through her lorgnette.

“Rumours? What sort of rumours?” Caroline asked.

“She says,
“rumours ill-becoming a Young Lady and especially one in Caroline’s Exalted Position”.”

“Go on,” Caroline said. “What else does she say?”

“She speaks of
“Someone of whom I have
warned Caroline repeatedly and whose Name should in No Way be connected with hers”.
She adds that ’tis unfortunate that your father and mother are leaving for the Continent or she would have given herself the pleasure of calling on them to discuss the matter.”

Caroline uttered an impatient exclamation.

“That is just what I was afraid of, Cousin Debby,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as if she might be overheard. ‘Well, thank goodness Papa and Mama go tomorrow and she won’t have time to see them. Pray heaven she hasn’t taken it into her head to write, for Mama would be upset and you collect Papa said that was on no account to happen.”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” Caroline but at the same time ‘tis difficult for me to know what to do. If I behave correctly, I should, having received this letter, speak with your mother at once.”

“Now, Cousin Debby, dear Cousin Debby, you know you will do nothing of the sort. Mama is not to be worried – and if you speak to my father,” Caroline added, guessing that that solution had already occurred to Mrs. Edgmont, ‘he will only be angry and you know as well as I do that Mama will guess what is wrong. He cannot keep anything from her. They are too devoted for either of them to hide a secret.”

“That is true enough, I must admit,” Mrs. Edgmont said. “But oh, Caroline, what does your godmother mean?”

“I know not and I care less!” Caroline answered, “anyway, cease to perturb yourself, Cousin Debby, for I’m not returning to London.”

“Not returning to London?” Mrs. Edgmont echoed in astonishment. “But, Caroline, you cannot mean it, you, the Belle of the Season, with invitations to balls for months ahead? How can you possibly talk of not returning to London?”

“Well, I’m not, not at any rate for the moment,” Caroline answered. “We will stay here, Cousin Debby, and then the rumours about me will die away. People will chatter for a day or two - until something more exciting occurs and then they will forget about me.”

“But what are they chattering about?” asked the bewildered Mrs. Edgmont. “Caroline, I think you should be frank with me. What happened that night when you left a note saying that you were in the company of Lady Rohan? Why did you not come back to Vulcan House and how did you find your way here alone and unattended?”

“Never mind, Cousin Debby. It is a long story and I have no wish to bore you with it now. You have been very good about keeping everything from Mama’s ears. Forget this silly letter from my godmother until they have left tomorrow and then you and I will decide on our plans for the future.”

“Caroline! Oh, Caroline, I fail to understand you,” Mrs. Edgmont cried. “You must go back to London. What will Lady Bullingham say if you remain down here after your parents have gone, and what will happen to all your
beaux?
They will miss you sadly, Caroline, and worse still, they might even
–
forget you.”

“There is not one that I care a fig for,” Caroline retorted.

“That is very silly,” Mrs. Edgmont admonished. “When I think of that charming young man, Lord...”

“If you mention Lord Glosford,” Caroline interrupted, “I shall scream. You know quite well that my godmother and you only like him because, he is a future duke. He is bird witted and the most dead bore I have ever met. I vow that I cannot spend five minutes in his company without wishing to yawn. I don’t care how good a match he may be, I will have none of him.”

“Now attend to me – ’ Mrs. Edgmont began, but Caroline, was not listening. She had heard the sound of a coach and horses outside in the courtyard and ran to the windows to see who might be arriving.

A very splendid cavalcade met her eyes. There was a coach of blue and silver with coachman and postillions in livery of blue and silver to match. Four horses, all perfectly matched greys, pulled the coach while there were outriders also on grey horses riding ahead. Caroline stared for a moment, then she gave a little cry of delight.

“It is my Lord Milborne,” she said. “Oh, how delighted I am! He must have come to bid farewell to Papa and Mama.”

She turned from the window and ran across the room to the door.

“Now if he were to offer for me, Cousin Debby,” Caroline said, her eyes twinkling, “I should accept him with alacrity.”

“But, Caroline, he is far too old,” Mrs. Edgmont cried in a scandalised tone.

“Yes, but he is a man and not a nincompoop like your precious Glosford,” Caroline retorted, and had vanished before Mrs. Edgmont could think of a suitable rebuke.

She sped down the passage, into the hall and had run so swiftly through the front door and down the wide stone steps to meet the Earl of Milborne that she was beside him as he descended from his coach

“Uncle Francis!” she cried and flung her arms round him.

“Well, Caroline,” Lord Milborne exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to find you here nor indeed to receive such a greeting. I had heard that you were a lady of fashion these days and that the bloods were duelling daily outside Vulcan House.”

“You are not to tease me, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said, holding on to his arm. “As for the bloods, I have little use for them, and I have never met one who was half as attractive as you, my lord.”

“Flatterer,” Lord Milborne said, but he looked down at Caroline with deep affection.

He was the Marquis’s oldest friend and he had known Caroline since she was a baby. Although he was no blood relation, she had called him Uncle Francis since first she had begun to talk. Tall and distinguished, Lord Milborne at fifty-five was, in Caroline’s estimation and indeed in many other women’s, a most attractive man; but all attempts to bring him to the altar had failed and he lived alone in his big house and managed his vast estates single-handed, although there were invariably a dozen lovely women wishful of chasing the sadness from his eyes and eager for the chance of dispersing the air of loneliness and reserve which seemed so indivisibly a part of his personality.

Next to her own home Caroline thought Lord Milborne’s the most perfect house in the world. The seat of the Earls of Milborne for four hundred years, Sale Park had been rebuilt in the reign of Queen Anne. The present mansion of mellow red brick ornamented with fine stonework was set among gardens of such surpassing, beauty that their fame had spread from England to the Continent, and artists wrote from as far as Italy asking if they might visit Sale Park and view the grounds.

Caroline and her parents spent many happy weeks every year as guests of Lord Milborne but even as a child Caroline was aware that sometimes her host and most beloved playmate seemed lost in a gentle melancholy, and always when the time came for them to return home she was conscious that they left behind a lonely figure despite the grandeur and beauty of his great possessions.

Now with Caroline chattering gaily Lord Milborne reached the hall before the Marquis, hearing the sound of their voices, came hurrying to meet them

“Welcome to Mandrake, Francis,” he said. ‘Come into the morning-room while I send for a glass of wine. Serena is upstairs, but she will be informed immediately of your arrival.”

Still hanging onto Lord Milborne’s arm Caroline went with the two men into the lovely room looking over the rose garden.

“Is it really true you are leaving tomorrow?” Lord Milborne asked Lord Vulcan.

“Indeed it is, and greatly daring, we are crossing to Calais by the new steamer, you know a service has been started these past two months.”

“I believe they are very comfortable,” Lord Milborne replied, “and if the weather is good they get there in under four hours. But will not my lady be frightened?”

“Serena says not,” Lord Vulcan replied, “and after all we are not such old fogies that we dare not try anything new, although Caroline here will have us believe that we are thoroughly out of date.”

“I can well believe that,” Lord Milborne said, “for I hear Caroline has set London by the ears. In the clubs they talk only of her beauty, and mothers with eligible daughters are ready to die with mortification.”

“Uncle Francis, now you are bamming,” Caroline protested, blushing.

“Well, if you need someone to fight a duel to defend your honour,” Lord Milborne said, “I am still considered quite a decent shot - senile though I may be.”

“Let us have no talk of duels,” Lord. Vulcan interjected quickly. “Caroline has promised to be very good while we are

away. But tell me about yourself, Francis. We were expecting you the day before yesterday.”

“And I would have been here,” Lord Milborne replied, “had I not been held up by the most tiresome murder.”

Caroline stiffened suddenly.

“That is the penalty of being the Chief Justice,” Lord Vulcan said carelessly. “Anyone we know?”

“Oh, no one of any consequence,I assure you,” Lord Milborne said. “A lawyer called Rosenberg. He was murdered about four miles the other side of Sevenoaks, and I have had to spend two days interrogating witnesses - a name, needless to say, without meaning, for as usual no one had been helpful enough to view the crime being committed!”

“Did you find the murderer?” Lord Vulcan asked.

“No, but strangely enough they tried to implicate young Brecon. You remember his father, Justin? He was a tiresome, difficult man. I had a difference of opinion with him about twenty years ago over a mill. He was in the wrong, of course. The bruiser he was backing committed a foul, quite early in the fight, but Brecon was a pig-headed, obstinate fellow so, because I was proved right, we never spoke to each other again, and he died the following year. I seem to recall some gossip in connection with his death, but I cannot at the moment collect what it was about.”

“And you say his son is accused of a murder?” Lord Vulcan asked.

“Well, not exactly accused,” Lord Milborne said. “It was all very strange. This man Rosenberg was found stabbed and two men came forward to say that someone had told them that Rosenberg was meeting Lord Brecon that night. They either could not or would not say who had given them the information but they were very insistent on it. Personally I think they had been bribed to bring in Brecon’s name but I could not prove it. Of course, Brecon had an excellent alibi.”

“Any reason who Rosen – whatever the man’s name was, should want to meet Brecon?”

“Not as far as I could find out. He had no papers on him and the clerk from his office in Lincoln’s Inn knew only that Rosenberg had had a letter that morning which seemed to please him, and he had left in the afternoon by post-chaise. He had not said where he was going, but merely intimated that he would return to the office the next morning.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound a very interesting murder to me,” Lord Vulcan said. “Ah, here is some refreshment,” he added as the door opened, and a butler entered attended by two footmen carrying silver trays piled high with cold meats and game.

“Who found the body, Uncle Francis?” Caroline asked.

‘Ah, Caroline, so you are interested in crime,” Lord Milborne said. “I am not sure if one ought to talk about such things in front of young ladies, but strangely enough that was the most mysterious part of the whole episode. A gentleman found poor Rosenberg, a man by the name of Sir Montagu Reversby. I must say I had never heard of him before. He was an unpleasant sort of a fellow, suave and far too sure of himself to be genuine, if you can understand what I mean. He tried to get out of giving evidence, but I insisted on seeing him. Apparently he was in the wood that night with two grooms, searching for a lady.”

“A lady!” Lord Vulcan exclaimed. “And what was she doing in the wood?”

“I have not the slightest idea,” Lord Milborne smiled. ‘Nor who she was. Anyway, they failed to find her, though apparently she was of some importance to Reversby, for he had offered the grooms a guinea apiece for her capture.”

“But instead they found a corpse,” Caroline said, and gave a little laugh.

“It sounds comic, doesn’t it?” Lord Milborne said, “but I assure you there was more behind this. I think Reversby and his grooms were genuine enough they didn’t expect to find anything but a lady but the other men were far more sinister. They stuck to their story that they had reason to believe that Lord Brecon had murdered this man and nothing I could say would shake them.”

“But Lord Brecon had an alibi?” Caroline said quickly.

‘Yes, and a good one, though it was somewhat unusual,” Lord Milborne answered.

“Why unusual?” Lord Vulcan asked.

“He had, it appeared, spent the evening with the proprietor of a menagerie and a female who tames tigers,” Lord Milborne explained. “In the morning he had not gone home but left for London as he wished to bid for a horse at Tattersall’s. When he returned the following day and told me of his movements, the menagerie people were fetched by my orders and proved to be excellent witnesses. Their story corroborated Brecon’s in every particular. The rest of the enquiry was over so I had the advantage of hearing what the other witnesses had said while Brecon had not heard them. It would have been easy for him to make a slip had he been guilty.”