Regency Masquerade (25 page)

A
scene of mayhem met his eyes.  Annie the maid, was backing out of the doorway into
Lady Murray’s sitting room, her apron over her face, her screams now reduced to
whimpers. “My lady, oh my lady!”

 Tom
pushed past her to find Lady Murray crumpled on the floor, her head covered
with blood!    “Quickly,” he told Annie, “Run and get Mr Hanson.”  He looked
around, “Where is Miss Pettigrew? Her companion?”

They
stared at each other in horror for a moment, each wondering if she had been
struck down as well.  Luckily for their jangled nerves, Miss Pettigrew
appeared, tying a voluminous robe around her waist, her cap on her head. 
“Whatever is the matter Annie?” she asked querulously.

Annie
pointed a trembling finger into the room, “I came down to put ‘er to bed and
she wasn’t in ‘er room so I went looking for ‘er, and there she is, on the
floor!  Murdered!”

“Nonsense!” 
said Miss Pettigrew automatically. However when she saw her mistress lying still,
on the carpet, she was a little less certain.  Very gingerly she knelt down
beside her and touched her shoulder. “My Lady?”  There was no answer. 

By
then the butler appeared, roused by all the commotion, hastily dressed in
trousers and a coat which had evidently been chosen at random. “Has anyone gone
for the doctor?” he asked sensibly, and then proceeded to send Tom off
immediately on that errand.  “Let’s get her on the sofa,” he decided, “It isn’t
seemly to leave her there on the floor.”  He looked to the two women for help
to lift his mistress.

“Wait,
let me get a cloth first, she won’t want to get blood on the material, ‘tis new,”
Miss Pettigrew objected.  Then she realised Lady Murray might well be past
worrying about such things.  She plucked a small cushion from a nearby chair
and placed it on the sofa.  “That will do.”

 Together
Annie and Hanson lifted Lady Murray off the floor onto the sofa and Miss
Pettigrew sat down beside her, gently wiping the blood away with her
handkerchief. “What happened?” she asked the butler fearfully, “Who has done
this dreadful deed?”

For
the first time, Hanson realised that he had most likely let a murderer into the
house.  He felt quite faint at the thought, should he call a constable?  He
wished Tom would return soon with the doctor, a medical man would likely know
what to do, and besides, perhaps there was still some hope for his mistress.

It
seemed hours before the doctor arrived, bustling in with his bag and hoping
audibly that he had not been brought out on a fool’s errand.  As soon as he saw
Lady Murray however he cast a sharp look at Hanson, “What’s been happening
here?” 

“I
don’t know sir.  Annie found her on the floor, like that.  Is she ... dead,
sir?” he asked anxiously.

Dr
Everard was already bending down over the still figure.  He looked up gravely
at the hovering servants, and shook his head.  “I’m afraid she’s gone.”

“She’s
been murdered!  I knew it as soon as I saw ’er!”  Annie exclaimed.

“I’m
afraid she could be right,” the doctor addressed Hanson as the senior man
present. “Someone will have to fetch a constable.”

Tom
sighed, he knew full well who would be given that task!

XXX

It
was Mr Adams who broke the news to Lord Carleton later the next day, still
puffing slightly from his hurry to get there.

“Murdered!” 
Carleton echoed in disbelief.  “Just a moment, Frances will need to hear
this.”  He sent Rawlings off to ask her and Mrs Pearson to join them in the
study as soon as possible.  He waited impatiently for them to be seated, then
invited Adams to continue.

“I
have grave news, Lady Carleton.  Your grandmother, Lady Murray, was found dead
in her house last night.  It troubles me to tell you this, ladies, but she was
murdered, brutally murdered in her own sitting room!”

Mrs
Pearson gave a small whimper of distress and buried her face in her
handkerchief.  Frances stared wide-eyed from one man to the other.  “Can this be
true?” she asked.

Mr
Adams nodded, “I am afraid so, I have already been down to Bow Street to
confirm the news.  I expect you will receive a visit from the magistrate in
charge, within a day or so my lord, you and your wife being her next of kin.”

He
paused for a moment to give Carleton a meaningful look.  “There is one more
thing you should know, my lord.  It appears that Mr Pilkington, Lady Murray’s
solicitor cannot be found.  It seems he has disappeared!  Very suspicious,
given the circumstances if I might say so!”

Carleton
whistled.  He found himself in full agreement.

Adams
continued, “Once he heard I was your man of business my lord, the magistrate,
Mr Pringle that is, asked me to help the constables search through the papers
in Pilkington’s office, to try and determine the motive for the attack.  We
start this afternoon, if I have your permission my lord.”

“Certainly,
an excellent idea.  I would appreciate it if you kept me informed of your
progress.”

“Of
course my lord.” Mr Adams bowed and took his leave shortly afterwards.

“I
never liked her Richard, but I didn’t wish this on her!” exclaimed Frances, and
went into his arms.

XXX

A
week later found them all once more gathered together in the study to listen to
grave news from a visitor, but on this occasion the caller was none other than
Squire Herbert, up from Selby for the week.  After exchanging a few brief
courtesies, the Squire got down to business, as eager to tell them his story as
Lord and Lady Carleton were to hear it.

“You
will be amazed at what news I have for you!  Not only do we have the motive for
your Grandmother’s murder, but we also know why the so-called Comte Duverne
tried to kill
you
my lady,” he said with an air of satisfaction. His
listeners stared at him with proper expressions of astonishment, although
Frances was already leaping ahead in her imagination.

“’So-called
Comte Duverne’?” queried Carleton.

The
Squire nodded vigorously.  “It seems there is no such person as the Comte
Duverne.  You will never guess who the pretender was!”

“No,
tell us please!” entreated Frances.

“A
French assassin!  Apparently he found that masquerading as a Comte got him
access into all sorts of places he would never been allowed into as plain Mr
Duverne.” Squire Herbert was well satisfied with the reaction this brought.  He
continued with his story.  “You will be glad to hear that Pilkington has been
caught at Dover, attempting to escape over to France.  He had some of Lady
Murray’s jewellery on his person so there is no doubt he will hang for her
murder.  Once he knew there was no escape he spoke freely, boasting of the fact
that he had hired Duverne to assassinate you, Lady Carleton, Lady Murray knew
nothing about it.”

Frances
and Carleton exchanged glances, no doubt Duverne had seen it as an extra bonus
when he found the ‘boy’ he was seeking and his target were one and the same.

The
Squire frowned uneasily at Frances.  “The unfortunate truth is that both
Pilkington and your grandmother have been stealing from your inheritance, my
lady.  When Pilkington found Bow Street was getting too close to him, he went
to see Lady Murray.  Apparently he had the gall to demand she provide him with
the funds to escape, in return for his arranging Duverne’s attack on you. 
However, instead of being grateful to him you will be glad to hear, she
threatened to turn him in to the constable!  They struggled when he tried to
take her jewels and she fell and hit her head on the table.  He says he didn’t
mean to kill her but that will make no difference, he will still hang for it.”

“Serve
him right!” exclaimed Frances. “I am exceedingly glad to hear that my
grandmother was not part of the plot against me.  I will try and think of her
more kindly now, despite our differences.”

The
Squire took his leave a short time later, leaving the couple to mull over the
news in private.  He feared there would be much to do, to set Lady Carleton’s
affairs in order during the coming weeks. He did not think it necessary to tell
Frances that Pilkington had said Lady Murray had been more upset about his
demand for money than the botched attempt on her granddaughter’s life.  Let
Frances think the best she could of her grandmother, it was a harmless deceit.

THE
END