Lord Deverill's Secret (20 page)

Putting the disturbing thoughts from her mind she said, “I will have supper now, Moll, please.”

To her relief, Moll said no more about Justin, and contented herself with replying, “Very good, miss”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cassandra found herself looking forward to Anne’s ball. She had spent the time since her return from her estate in cleaning the remaining rooms, beating the rugs and polishing the furniture, so that now the house was ready for sale. As soon as the ball was over, she meant to speak to her lawyer and make the necessary arrangements. It was good to have the ball to look forward to, a cheerful event to offset the gloom of parting with her house.

She had no new gowns to wear, having worn every respectable dress she possessed, and so she had accepted Maria’s loan of a dress. The two of them were almost the same size, and although Cassandra was the taller of the two, the dress had swept the floor on Maria so that, as Cassandra looked in the cheval glass on the evening of the ball, she was pleased to see that it still reached the ground on her. It was made of pink silk, with a pretty trim of roses round the high waist, and a cluster of roses on the short, puffed sleeve. To match the trim, she had put a simple wreath of fresh roses in her hair.

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 together 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.