The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery Read online

  The Secrets of Scorton Hall

  By

  Kate Carteret

  Copyright : Kate Carteret 2018

  Published by : Dashing Dandies Publishing

  Cover Design: Melody Simmons

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  http://www.facebook.com/DashingDandies

  Chapter One

  “All you needed was a change of scenery, Felicia. That sort of thing works wonders, I believe.” Agatha Stonewell, Dowager Countess of Barton, gave her niece a sad smile before taking a sip of her tea. “Oxfordshire is as good a place as any to get over a broken heart.” She went on confidently.

  “My heart isn’t quite broken, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia said, knowing that her reflexive comment was more defensive than true.

  The fact was that Felicia didn’t quite know if her heart was broken or not; she was too afraid to look at it closely. She much preferred the idea of outrunning her upset with an elongated visit to her great aunt. It had been her father’s idea that she quit Buckinghamshire for a while and go to his favorite aunt and, within a few hours of arriving at the Barton Hall Dower House, Felicia knew her father had been right.

  “Well, you know what I mean. You’re upset, I can see that. And that young man had an effect on you this last year, which was even more obvious to me.”

  “What effect did he have?”

  “An influence, I suppose.” Lady Barton smiled in a most unapologetic manner. “You were not yourself around that young man. It was as if the bright light of your spirit had been dimmed.”

  “Charles did nothing of the sort.” Felicia said, more in defense of herself than Lord Charles Wilby.

  “Have it your own way.” Lady Barton sniffed.

  “Aunt Agatha!” Felicia laughed. “You always do this. You always feign hurt feelings when I disagree with you. It’s like cheating at cards; it is no way to win.”

  “But I do win, do I not?” Lady Barton smiled mischievously.

  “Always.”

  “I did not have anything in particular against Lord Wilby.” Lady Barton began. “After all, he is like so many other young men.”

  “In what way?” Felicia asked against her better judgment.

  She shuffled in her seat so that she could lean a little against the back of the brocade-covered couch. The drawing room at the Barton Hall Dower House was one of Felicia’s favorite places in all the world. Ever since her great aunt had moved into it when her son, now the Earl of Barton, had finally married, Felicia had enjoyed visiting her all the more.

  It made a wonderful change to be in a mansion which could accurately be described as small. The place was warmer somehow, with fires burning in every grate and just six bedrooms. The Dower House was a far cry from Davenport Hall, her father’s grand estate, and it really was nice to be there.

  Felicia loved her childhood home; the wonder of flying around the corridors of Davenport with a nurse or governess in hot pursuit would never really leave her. But when a young woman felt down, small drawing rooms, warm fires, and comfort were more in order. As was the uplifting company of a somewhat irreverent elderly lady.

  “I think Lord Wilby has a tendency to stifle a young woman.” Lady Barton set her tea down and folded her arms over her ample bosom, something she always did when she wanted to make an unpopular point. “And you need not look at me like that, my dear. I know you have taken it as a personal insult, but it is nothing of the kind.”

  “How could I take offense? You are talking about Lord Wilby, not me.” Felicia folded her arms also, mimicking her aunt.

  “Ah, but you are irked by it!” Lady Barton said triumphantly. “You are irked by it, because you think I am throwing light on a part of your own character.”

  “Meaning?” Although Felicia pulled a face, it was almost impossible to be truly furious with Agatha.

  “Perhaps you think you ought to have fought off that tendency of his and continued to be yourself entirely throughout the year of your acquaintance.”

  “Aunt Agatha! There was nothing to fight off!” Felicia was finally riding high on her dignity.

  However, it did not last long; when she heard the familiar rasp which always heralded laughter from her aunt, she found herself smiling.

  “I will not always forgive you, Aunt Agatha,” Felicia said when Lady Barton gave into a truly sensational bout of laughter. “Oh, stop it!”

  “You have such a look when you are affronted, Felicia. Goodness, you are so very like your father. You even look like him.” Lady Barton continued to rumble with amusement.

  “This gets better and better.” Felicia was trying hard not to laugh; just once, it would be nice to be able to scold her outspoken great aunt. “After you have held my weak character up to the chandeliers for closer inspection, now you tell me I look like my father.” Felicia’s face was a mask of mock outrage. “I adore Papa, but could you not have said I have his character and my mother’s looks? Could you not soften that final blow just a little?”

  “Oh, you must stop!” Lady Barton wheezed. “Your outrage is going to aggravate my irregular heartbeat.”

  “You do not have an irregular heartbeat, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia realized suddenly that she had not felt so well and so amused for a very long time. “You simply have a physician who will not say no to you. You tell him what ailment you have this week, and the poor fellow simply agrees with you!”

  “Now, there’s my Felicia!” Lady Barton said, her amusement dying down as she smiled warmly at Felicia. “There is my bright, shining girl! There is my amusing, witty, Felicia!”

  “Oh?”

  “Thank goodness, I thought I had lost you forever.”

  “I have not been anywhere. I have been here all along.”

  “If you say so.” Lady Barton had no further need for teasing; her point had been made and made by Felicia herself.

  Felicia knew that she had down-played her wit to some degree when she had been courted by Charles Wilby.

  A baron who lived not far from her father’s Buckinghamshire estate, Charles was fair-haired, blue-eyed, and extraordinarily handsome. He was amusing and very popular among men and women alike with his charm and ready wit. Whilst he liked the same qualities in others, Felicia had always wondered if that was only on the condition that the charm and wit of others were easily outshone by his own.

  It was extraordinary what a person could get used to; what could suddenly become normal in their world. Felicia recognized this herself. The problem was that she still loved him and the fact that he had so easily transferred his affection from her to another was so painful she couldn’t think about it.

  “I know you have only just arrived, but do you really need much time to settle in? After all, you are no stranger to my little Dower House and I hardly think you need to get your bearings.” Lady Barton cut across the misery of her thoughts.

  She was a shrewd old lady who had a knack for seeing the slightest change in a person’s countenance and acting accordingly.

  “Why?”

  “You need not look so suspicious, Felicia.” Lady Barton sniffed loudly and straightened her spine far beyond what Felicia considered prudent for a woman of her age.

  “It is healthy suspicion, Aunt Agatha. No doubt your next few words will prove me right to have been so.” Felicia smiled; what was Agatha up to now?

  Their relationship had always been thus. Despite the vast difference in their ages, the two women had wit and intelligence in common, so much so that Felicia would choose her great aunt’s company over several of her younger acquaintances.

&
nbsp; “The Duke of Scorton is getting married!” Lady Barton said with such overdone enthusiasm that Felicia choked back a laugh.

  “Today?” Felicia said as she tried to hide her amusement.

  “No, not today. I’ve no idea when he is to be married, but it cannot be too distant an occurrence.”

  “I am more pleased for him than I can say. I would be more pleased still if I knew the man even just a little.”

  “You are being obtuse.”

  “No, Aunt Agatha, you are being vague.” Felicia could see how her aunt was enjoying the banter.

  As the mid-summer sunshine poured in through the large windows with their arched stone mullions, Felicia felt a sense of peace wash over her. The sunlight fell across the room in a wide strip, sweeping across the austere dark blue fabric hem of Lady Barton’s gown as it continued its journey across the rich red oriental rug.

  “Then I shall get to the point.” Lady Barton scowled so deeply that Felicia wondered if the dear woman’s aging skin would ever recover from it. “Clarence Tavistock has become engaged to some Scottish heiress, apparently. He is hosting a few days of celebration in honor of the announcement at Scorton Hall which, by the way, has to be seen to be believed.” She segued. “The marble statues alone are enough to….”

  “Aunt Agatha! I thought you were going to get to the point!” Felicia chuckled with delight.

  “All right, but I will get back to the marble statues, believe me.” Lady Barton wagged a bony finger at her. “There are to be a number of interesting guests, I am told, and this will be the first chance Oxfordshire will have to inspect this Scottish heiress, for this is to be her first visit.”

  “I see.” Felicia nodded slowly. “A far-reaching sort of courtship then?”

  “The Duke has been most attentive, spending many weeks in some little village just outside Stirling trying to woo her.”

  “How thoughtful.” Felicia said, smiling but being just a little sarcastic.

  After all, it was thoughtful. She tried to imagine being so treasured that a young man would travel to another country, albeit still in Britain, to see her.

  “He is a pleasant sort of man for one so young.”

  One so young, as described by The Countess of Barton, could be anything from twenty to fifty years. As descriptions went, it was a little vague.

  “So, how many days are we to be at the marble-statue heaven that is Scorton Hall?”

  “Three.” Lady Barton said with a bright smile which spoke volumes of her pending victory in the matter.

  Felicia already knew that resistance would do her no good; much better she start packing now.

  “The first day is to be a little more intimate with just a few notables in attendance. Drinks on the terrace followed by dinner. I daresay it is to settle Meredith Mulholland into things, rather than starting with something more widely attended.”

  “Meredith Mulholland?”

  “Yes, the Scottish heiress. Oh, do keep up, my dear.”

  “What a wonderful name.” Felicia said and truly meant it.

  “Almost as wonderful as The Duchess of Scorton.” Lady Barton chuckled wickedly. “Or Your Grace.”

  “Aunt Agatha! Really!” Felicia laughed in spite of herself; her aunt had always been a little suspicious of young women marrying into a great title, even though she had done the same herself when she had married the late Earl of Barton.

  Still, she was an elderly lady and was entirely unapologetic about any little double standards she might have. Felicia would have given a limb for such unashamed confidence.

  “Well, obviously I shall reserve my judgment until I have met the lady.”

  “No, Aunt Agatha, even you do not believe that.” Felicia shook her head and smiled indulgently.

  What a wonderful thing to be loved unconditionally, your faults entirely disregarded. And she did love her aunt so very much.

  “To get back to the itinerary, there are drinks and dinner on the first day, as I have already mentioned. The second day is rather free as everybody prepares for a very fine ball with so many of the county invited in the evening. Really, the ballroom at Scorton is three times the size of the one here at Barton.”

  “Oh, Aunt Agatha, please do not drift off into lengthy descriptions of chequerboard floors.” Felicia complained.

  “All right. But like the statues, I will return to this subject whether you like it or not.” She waited patiently until Felicia had stopped laughing. “The third day will be another quiet affair for the few house guests.”

  “The county will not be staying overnight?”

  “Now you are being silly.”

  “So, you have been invited, Aunt Agatha. The problem is, I do not have an invitation.”

  “I shall write off to the Duke and tell him that you will come in the place of Hector and Olivia. They cannot come for they have prior engagements and I am sure the Duke would not see an elderly dowager traveling without proper company.”

  “In other words, he is as easily bullied by you as any other young man might be.”

  “My dear Felicia, I much prefer the term manipulated.” Lady Barton smiled mischievously.

  “I daresay!” Felicia rose to her feet and stretched before walking languidly across the room to pull one of the bell ropes which hung beside the fireplace. “I am going to ask for more tea for I have a feeling I will need it when the conversation returns to marble and tiles.”

  “Good thinking, it is always better to be prepared.” Lady Barton replied and Felicia wondered how her aunt managed to have a witty retort for everything.

  “So, who are the other guests? The ones who are actually staying at the Hall?”

  “Lord and Lady Harker.” Lady Barton pulled a face; Lord Harker was a minor baron with delusions of grandeur as far as she was concerned. “Lord and Lady Greystone. Wonderful pair.” She smiled warmly as if the Earl and Countess of Greystone were standing in the middle of her drawing room. “Mr. and Mrs. Peregrine Woolworth and their endless vulgar tales of wealth. The Earl of Bailridge, Sir Graham Wharton, and Colonel Merritt Wentworth. I would like the man if only he did not bark every sentence as if he were chivvying the troops. Really, he is so old that he has now been retired longer than he was in the Army.”

  “Goodness.” Felicia bit her tongue as she retook her seat. “Quite an assortment then?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Lady Barton looked a little furtive. “Oh yes, and Jonathan Forbes, the Earl of Beaumont.” She added as if he were no more than an afterthought.

  Felicia knew her aunt of old and raised a solitary eyebrow in her direction to let her know she had not been hoodwinked.

  “Indeed?”

  “Well, he is a boyhood friend of the Duke, of course, he is to be there.” Lady Barton shrugged nonchalantly.

  “I hope you do not have any plans for me, Aunt Agatha,” Felicia said and felt a little panic-stricken. “I am afraid it is all too soon.”

  “Forgive, me, I haven’t a notion of…..”

  “Oh yes, you have.” Felicia smiled warmly. “And I love you for it, even if I am not ready for such match-making.”

  “But you will come with me?”

  “Of course, I shall.” Felicia said and turned to the door as the maid came in.

  Chapter Two

  “I am so glad that you could come a day early, Jonathan. It has been an absolute age since I have hosted anything of any length here at Scorton and I am not entirely sure I’m looking forward to it.” Clarence Tavistock, the Duke of Scorton, reached out to take the large serving of brandy from a rather ill-favored maid. “Thank you, Daisy, you may leave us now.”

  The young woman curtsied somewhat clumsily, the ill-fitting black serge gown only held in place by the tightly tied crisp white apron, before retreating from the room.

  “That is hardly the spirit, Clarence. This is a whole new beginning, is it not? You must find some way to look forward to it. After all, if you do not look forward to it, your young lady will see it. Th
ey see everything, my dear fellow.” Jonathan Forbes, the Earl of Beaumont, took a drink of the very fine brandy and made himself comfortable, crossing one long and well-tailored leg over the other.

  In his better moments, Jonathan was extremely pleased for his oldest and dearest friend. They were both now five-and-twenty, the perfect age for marrying, and each of them must surely turn their attention towards siring heirs for their respective titles and estates.

  In other moments, the idea of it all made Jonathan feel rather low. They had been friends for years, drawn to one another easily as schoolboys at Eton, remaining friends throughout their years at Oxford and beyond. He wondered how much he would see of his old friend once he was a married man, given that he had seen so little of him in the last months as he had courted Miss Meredith Mulholland.

  Of course, they both had large estates to run and a great number of things to take up their time, but Jonathan was already missing the camaraderie of a childhood friendship. He supposed that such easy conversation was never to be had with anyone else. Friendships made in manhood were more guarded somehow.

  “Meredith is very much looking forward to coming here, to meeting everybody; to meeting you, my dear fellow, most particularly.”

  “And I am looking forward to meeting Miss Mulholland. It will be a great honor to finally be introduced to the one woman who has been able to corner my dear friend and make him settle at last.” Jonathan chuckled mischievously.

  “I suppose she does have that dubious credit to her name.” Clarence was amused. “But it was time, Jonathan. I daresay it is time for both of us.”

  “There is more to it than that, Clarence, you cannot fool me.” Jonathan took another sip of brandy and prepared himself for a very fine hour or two spent teasing his old friend.

  “Well, it is more than a year now since my father passed and I took the reins, so to speak, and I daresay I have grown into my role. It never did concern me, you know? Being a Duke, as far as I could see, was all wonder and no responsibility. But the truth is, it is all responsibility, is it not?”

  “Oh dear, that sounds rather miserable.”