Mandy (4 page)

He stepped toward her, “Please, Miss Amanda…do not turn away from me. I am only pointing out what will be said on the morrow. The question had to be asked. I never thought it true. I still do not think it true. I had come to understand Celia and her machinations and still the question had to be asked. If she spoke
to me
, she surely made mention of this to another.”

“Indeed,” said Alfred. “I believe she hinted the same to me.”

Mandy rounded on him. She knew he was lying. Why was he doing so? Was he afraid suspicion might be cast upon himself? Were they trying to set Ned up as their scapegoat? She wouldn’t have it. “Not true and do not try and tell me otherwise. I know better, Alfred.”

He started to answer her, apparently thought better of it and kept quiet.

Sir Owen said sadly, “By now, I am certain the good doctor has already reported Miss Celia’s murder to the local magistrate and I believe it will be left for him to sort out.”

“M’father is a magistrate as well. He works with magistrate Connors, he does and he will be very upset,” Alfred stuck in worriedly.

A knock sounded and all eyes turned to find the lackey nervously fidgeting from one foot to the other. His eyes were wide with the news as he called out, “Miss Amanda, ‘tis Elly, Elly Bonner—Miss Brinley’s maid.
She up and left
. Took her things, she did. Gone,
she be gone.”

Mandy’s brows went up before she composed herself and thanked her servant, waited for him to leave and turned to the assembled company.

“Why on earth would she take off like that?”

“They will say Ned here paid her to go,” Alfred said. “This is going to be a scandal and m’father won’t like it. Not one bit.”

“Do shut up, Alfred,” Mandy turned on him.

“Look here! That is no way to speak to me! It’s your brother that has gone and got himself mixed up in the blackest scrape ever I’ve seen, not I,” Alfred retorted, much incensed.

Ned was at his cousin’s throat, but Mandy managed to pull him off and away all the while her twin spluttered furiously, “Fiend seize your shriveled soul, you puling noddy,” Ned shouted at him as Mandy gripped his arm.

Alfred announced that he would not be spoken to that way and said he was going home to confer with his father. He must have remembered the Bolton Abbey Ruins and turned to Sir Owen to inquire, “Do you come, sir?”

“If only to keep you from distorting the facts to your father,” Sir Owen returned, and bowed low as he took Mandy’s hand.

She removed her fingers from his and stared coolly at him.

His voice was sincere as he said, “Believe me, your obedient servant in this and all things, my sweet.”

She wanted to slap him. How dare he pretend to be a friend while he held her brother in suspicion! “Good night, gentlemen,” she responded, dismissing them both.

Brother and sister waited only long enough for them to be gone, before they looked at one another and Mandy said, “Ned, I don’t like the insinuations behind everything both Sir Owen and Alfred said.”

“Nor do I. What’s more, m’girl, this is too smoky by half.”

“Indeed, someone has killed Celia and knows enough about us, that they have managed to cast suspicion your way. We need help and there is but one person I know that can offer it. In the morning, we’ll ride over to Skippendon,” Mandy said grimly.

“Skippy?” Ned brightened.
“Certes
, Mandy, you’ve hit upon the very thing. Skippy will see us through this.”

Abovestairs, Celia’s stepmother paced. This would be a dreadful ordeal ahead, but not as dreadful as the one she would have endured had Celia lived.

The last few months had been a horror for her.

Now Celia was dead. Thank goodness, because with Celia gone, so too were her fears for the future. Now, she had to make certain no one looked her way!

Chapter Four

VISCOUNT JOHN SKIPPENDON’S home lay some five miles southwest of the Sherborne estate. The extensive Wharfdale Manor grounds skirted a narrow channel through which the waters of the Wharfe poured its silver rills.

Mandy had always admired the viscount’s lovely estate grounds, but this morning, she could see nothing past the worry in her mind. How would she convey her concerns to Skippy? What would he think? What would he do?

Skippendon’s holdings, his fame, and his heart were known to be vast and wide open. He was a favorite both in and out of London, though recently, he seemed to prefer his home in the wilds of Yorkshire than his townhouse in London.

He had always been a beloved friend, despite the five years seniority he had on them. For years they had looked upon him as they would have an older brother. He seemed knowledgeable in all things and Ned was certain now, he could straighten out this entire mess. Mandy, however, was not so certain. Murder was quite a different matter than the ins and outs of the social mores of the beau monde.

“Good thing, Skip is in residence, don’t know what we would do with this mess if he weren’t,” Ned said with a heavy sigh.

“Indeed, yes, but I am worried, Ned. I don’t like what is happening up at the Halls. Aunt Agatha behaved most oddly this morning and I am worried about Alfred and his father. I don’t trust them, either of them, especially in this matter.”

“Aye, I quite agree…but, Mandy…I never bedded Celia. You must believe me. I simply can’t be the father.”

“I do believe you. Ned, you don’t have to keep repeating it. I know you were not the father of her child, and I also know that if you were, you would have done the right thing by her in a heartbeat
. I know you, Ned.”

He sighed and kept quiet then, but Mandy knew he was seriously worried.

They had slowed their horses to a walk and Mandy flung the long pale blue scarf that banded her dark blue top hat away from her face. She set down her reins and tied it at a bow at the back of her hat and complained, “I shall remember to think less about fashion and more about practicality the next time I purchase a riding hat.”

“Hats? This is no time to be bothering about hats,” retorted her brother. They had reached the viscount’s stables. Two young grooms had come running to take their horses as they dismounted.

Mandy took to smoothing the tight fitted blue velvet riding jacket over her matching skirt and pinch the white lace of her blouse while he fidgeted about and finally demanded, “Come on, girl. Lud, you look just fine.”

She pulled a face but fell hurriedly into step beside him. They were welcome visitors at the Manor and taken immediately down the dark hall of the Tudor styled manor to the open doors of the morning room.

The viscount looked up from the coffee he was sipping in time to hear Mandy squeak.

 He set down his cup and turned, bright-eyed and smiling as she exploded into the room. He grinned as he stood to take the full force of her onslaught, his arms held open for her.

He was still in his brocade dressing gown, although, this was worn over his shirt, breeches, and highly polished boots, as Mandy dove into his arms, and wailed his name, “Skippy—
oh Skippy!”
It was such a release to be able to let down some of her guardedness with someone she completely trusted.

Ned met Skippy’s eyes over his sister’s head, but she turned in time to catch his expression and objected, “Do not be rolling your eyes like that.” She turned back to the viscount, “We are in a devil of a scrape.”

Ned plopped down on a nearby leather upholstered chair and put a fruit tart into his mouth.

The viscount set Mandy aside and frowned, “What’s this? A scrape? What sort of scrape?” He then turned on Ned and shouted, “Hold there! You scoundrel, that is the last tart.”

“Is it?” Ned returned and grinned. “Well then, you have the satisfaction of knowing it has been appreciated.”

Skippy shot him a fiendish look, but as Mandy was tugging on his sleeve, he returned his attention to her and groaned. “Mandy my dear, you and your brother’s descent into my peaceful morning is both unexpected and an unwanted pleasure, but do tell me, what scrape?”

“Don’t be horrid, Skippy. We are in the rockiest of straits,” Mandy declared wringing her hands. “Aunt Agatha’s stepdaughter, our cousin Celia, was murdered last night.”

“Good God!” the viscount returned his brows arching as his eyes widened with his shock.
“Murdered
? What do you mean, murdered? How? Why?” He waved her toward a chair, “Sit and tell me the whole.” He waited for her to be seated and took up a hard backed chair and pulled it close to her.

“Someone strangled her,” Ned said on a hushed note.

“Upon my word!” the viscount returned.

“Precisely,” said Mandy, “But—that is not the whole of it.”

“No? What can that mean?” the viscount’s hazel eyes narrowed and he put a hand through the mass of light brown locks around his pleasant face.

“She was with child…” Mandy put in and felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

“Blister it! Are you saying someone killed the poor young thing…while she was…
upon my soul
!” Skippy was on the edge of his chair and looking thunderous. “Who would have…why, it is unthinkable. Who could have…?”

“Me,
they think it was me,” Ned said miserably.

Skippy stood up. “What sort of Banbury story is that?”

“True, both Sir Owen and Alfred were pointing fingers at Ned last evening,” Mandy put in.

“Time for you and your brother to take a jaunt to London,” Skip said with some grimness.

“No, no, I must find out who did this, or people whether they can prove it or not, will always think it was me. That is the rumor already going about in ‘m’own home, Skip. I know, my man told me this morning,” Ned said obviously upset. “If we leave now, they are bound to believe that I am guilty.” Ned sighed heavily, “I must find out who murdered her.”

“Don’t see that you should do that. Bound to be trouble if someone means to implicate you. Leave it to the runners,” the viscount returned.

“Skippy, Ned had an assignation with Celia last night, he was the one that found her…and Sir Owen came upon them. Earlier, Alfred saw Ned go into the woods and well, it looks awful, you see.”

It was then that the viscount made them tell him all from the first moment that Ned became interested in Celia to the very last moment when he found her body.

The butler arrived at that moment to announce the arrival of two gentlemen, Squire Bevis Speenham and Mr. Alfred Speenham.

Ned cursed beneath his breath, but Skippy’s eyes had narrowed as he murmured, “Leave them to me, Ned…Mandy. Try not to engage them or get ruffled by them.”

No more than the required amenities were exchanged when Squire Bevis nodded at Ned and said, “Edward, it grieves me deeply, for it is a blot against the entire family, but I must ask you to accompany me to Harrowgate to speak with Magistrate Connors.”

“Why?” Mandy was on her feet.

“Because he must. His involvement in this situation, this ugly situation requires that he appear for questioning.”

Mandy saw red color fill her twin’s cheeks, “No! Why should he be questioned? Your son and Sir Owen both came to Sherborne last evening to meet with Celia. Either one of them could have murdered her. It is more likely that one of them committed the crime as it is my brother,” Mandy retorted in high form. “How dare you charge my brother as a suspect! Two other men were supposed to meet her at the pond and for all we know, they did…”

“They are not suspect,” Her uncle returned coldly.

The viscount stepped forward at this juncture and added his voice, “I must say, sir, that I find your behavior in my home most objectionable. You saunter in here with scarcely a by-your-leave, and think to accost a guest in my house? Depend upon it; you are out there, sir!”

Squire Speenham turned to the viscount. “I do beg your pardon, but this matter requires some immediate attention.”

“Not in my house,
it does not.”

The squire turned to his nephew and said grimly, “Edward, I have always thought you and your sister’s manners sorely lacking. Your scruples, I imagine are inadequate to the task of your title and great estate. This is what comes of your lax behavior over the years.”

“Get out!” the viscount demanded at once. “Out…
now!
I shall not have my dear, very dear friends insulted in my presence and in my home. You, as their uncle should be their protector…and instead, I find you are their worst enemy, pointing out your notions of what are their faults, instead of holding up their many honorable characteristics. Your suspicions are beneath the position you hold as their uncle. And besides all that, what possible motive could Ned have for killing poor Celia?”

“I am afraid you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. As it happens, Agatha Brinley found a page that was obviously torn from Celia’s diary. It was in the paper bin and clearly states that Edward of Sherborne is the father of her unborn child!” the squire snapped.

“Impossible
!” Ned retorted his face flushed. “We never did more than kiss…”

“And is it all not too convenient?” Mandy stuck in.
“A torn page
? Who would have torn it and left it to be found? Where is the entire diary? Do you mean to insinuate that Ned tore it out of the diary, killed her, and then left it for someone to find? Well that is absurd beyond thought. If he was the killer, why would he leave such a thing behind?”

The squire frowned over this but his son almost squealed with glee, “Celia points a finger at Ned from the…”

Mandy pointed her finger at Alfred’s nose, “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it!”

Skippy stepped forward and touched Mandy’s shoulder, “Calm yourself, for you are quite right. This so called torn page from a diary does not make sense.”

Ned’s face was white and Mandy bit her lip as she looked at him. He was in trouble. This was surely going to be very ugly.

“How can she have written such a thing?” Ned murmured and then looked at the squire, “Kindly allow me to see this page.”

“In good time, in good time. Now without further delay, you had better come with us.”

“Oh no, my man. Ned goes nowhere with you until I have seen this piece of work,” Skippy said grimly. His usual even temper had been severely ruffled and he looked ready for a fight.

The paunchy squire pulled out a wrinkled sheet from his coat pocket and slapped it into the viscount’s waiting hand but grumbled, “There. Though what right…”

“May I remind you once again, that you are in
my home,
” returned the viscount with a show of disdain. He cast his eyes over the page, flanked with Ned on one side of him and Mandy on the other. When he raised his eyes back to the squire it was with hard look, “My dear sir, the poor girl writes that she intends to marry Edward and
make
him the father of her unborn child. She does not say that he
is
the father.”

“Oh come now,” blustered Squire Bevis. “‘Tis there to be read. She has named him as father.”

“No, sir, her exact words are,
‘and as I have no choice, I shall tell Edward he is the
father of my child and he will do the honorable thing and marry me.
’ Such words are a far cry from saying he is in actuality the father. Apparently, the lady was unable to make the real father commit and schemed to trick young Edward into marriage.”

“Yes, but I told you, I never more than kissed her…” Ned said puzzled. “She would know that…would not be able to tell me I was the father…so what was the game?”

“Apparently, when she wrote that, she meant for you to do more than kiss her. Perhaps that is why she wanted to meet you early…to seduce you, allow one of the others, to find you in a compromising position,” stuck in the viscount thoughtfully. “Indeed, she did not expect Alfred. She expected the squire and that leaves me to ask…” He turned to Alfred, “You must have met her before you came to the house…”

“No, I decided to visit with Mandy first,” Alfred answered blandly.

“But your father’s note requested him to meet with her at seven,” the viscount returned.

Alfred shrugged, “I went up to the house early…and I didn’t care about being a bit late for a meeting with Celia.”

The Viscount and Mandy exchanged glances and Mandy said, “Something here is off and I mean to get to the bottom of it. Alfred, I don’t believe you. I think you met with Celia first, before you came up to the house.”

“Preposterous,” Alfred snorted.

“What a black scandal,” the squire said. “Simply has never happened in our family before.”

Ignoring her uncle, Mandy said, “No, what is preposterous you boor, is that you would rather think Ned a libertine and a murderer than think a woman in trouble was looking for an answer with a fraudulent claim,” Mandy turned on him like a tigress and had the satisfaction of seeing him take a step away from her.

“Nevertheless, Edward must come and see what Connors has to say to all of this,” the squire said on an unrelenting note.

“You had better go speak with Magistrate Connors then Ned. I will see Mandy home and never fear, we will get out of this absurd tangle,” Skippy offered.