Page 15 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
B ertram and Bea’s wedding went ahead, only a day later than planned, but Olivia was very put out to find that no one was permitted to attend.
Captain Edgerton was determined to provide no opportunity for the gunman to have another attempt on Bertram’s life, so only the four parents and Mr Dewar were in church, together with Captain Edgerton, the Scotsman and four burly grooms and footmen who were to act as Bertram’s body-guard.
Immediately after the ceremony, the newly married couple were bundled into a carriage and driven off to an unknown location, escorted by the captain, the Scotsman and the body-guard.
It was all very dispiriting, but since the wedding breakfast had been arranged long before, and the cake made, the rest of the family celebrated the marriage by eating and drinking to excess, and allowing a few gleams of merriment to break through.
The following day, however, saw a resumption of misery, for the captain had left behind Mrs Edgerton, the London lawyer Mr Willerton-Forbes and another man, by the name of Neate. Their task was to find out precisely where everyone was at the moment the shot was fired.
“How foolish,” Eustace said crossly, having been summoned to take his turn being interviewed. “As if anyone is going to say, ‘Let me think… oh, yes, I was under the third bush from the right, firing a pistol.’”
Kent laughed. “No, but what they will also be doing, I expect, is asking everyone who else they could see around them. That way they will find out if anyone claims to be in the great hall but is actually missing. It is quite clever, if you ask me.”
When it was Olivia’s turn, she discovered that he was quite right.
The table in the old schoolroom was covered by a large drawing of the relevant castle rooms — the great hall and entrance hall, the passageway between them, and the two anterooms — together with the bridge and a section of the drive.
Little dots, each labelled with a name, were scattered about.
There were not very many dots yet, but she quickly found her father’s.
“And where were you standing, Lady Olivia?” the lawyer said.
“There… just there, beside Papa. I was holding his arm.”
“On that side… his right?”
“Yes, because I was looking down the drive, and I saw the flash of the gun.”
They were very excited about that, and for some time plied her with questions about it, the other man taking copious notes for the captain’s benefit. Then they all went outside, and she showed them where she was standing and where she thought the flash had come from.
“And what happened after the flash? Did you see anything else… or anyone down there?” the lawyer asked excitedly.
“No, because everyone started moving about, blocking the view, and anyway, we were all looking towards Bertram.”
They looked suitably disappointed, taking her back to the old schoolroom.
“Now, Lady Olivia,” the lawyer said, “I should like you to tell me everyone you remember seeing near you on the bridge at the time the shot was fired. Not anyone you passed on the way out, or anyone who came out afterwards, just those around you at the time of the shooting.”
She gave a few names, and then ground to a halt.
“It is very difficult. There was quite a crowd but I was not taking much notice. I was watching the carriages and… and admiring the way the torch flames danced about in the breeze. They were very pretty. That was why I was looking down the drive. I am very sorry. I am not much use.”
“That is quite all right. No one has a perfect memory, after all,” the lawyer said.
“But if I forget someone, you might think that was the person who shot Bertram.”
“No, no,” the lawyer said kindly. “The whole point is that no one will remember everyone, but everyone will remember a few people. So if a person was there but you do not remember him, someone else will, preferably several someones, and so we will know he is not our villain. But there will be one person who claims to be there, but no one remembers — that will be our man. Do you see?”
She did, and like Kent, she had to agree that it was very clever.
***
O livia received a brief note from Lady Esther Franklyn. ‘Are you ready to go to Leicestershire?” was all she wrote. Without hesitation, Olivia wrote back, ‘Yes.’
Even Papa, previously so resistant to her going anywhere, made no protest, agreed that a change of scene would do them both good and was quite prepared to suffer the tribulations of excessive amounts of entertainment at someone else’s expense.
With the addition of Mr Franklyn, who declared there was no point in remaining at Highwood with only the two small boys in the nursery for company, they made their way in great harmony to Leicestershire.
Briar House was a neat modern property with no great pretensions to elegance or architectural merit.
Its most important parts were the stables and kennels, and its sole function was to maintain the Duke of Camberley’s hounds and string of hunters for the enjoyment of whichever of the duke’s multitude of relations cared to take advantage of them.
This largesse was well appreciated, and from early November until March, the house was generally bursting at the seams, three additional guest houses being also full, and some years the influx was so great that it spilled over into the adjoining village, and the sleepy little inn became a bustle of activity.
This year, the duke’s continuing poor health meant that fewer of his immediate family cared to leave him alone at his principal seat while they gave themselves over to pleasure, so there was less of a crowd than usual.
Even so, the main house was full, but there was space for the earl and his daughter, and after Lady Esther made rather a fuss, in her refined and ladylike way, a room was found for her and Mr Franklyn, too.
The house was run by Lady Esther’s cousins, Mr Jeremiah Bucknell and his sister Charlotte, pleasant, cheerful people whose sole concern, it seemed, was to ensure that their guests enjoyed every minute of their stay.
Olivia found her room, prettily covered in a wallpaper of roses and ivy, was already provided with a blazing fire, with towels warming in front of it, and a bath wanting only the addition of hot water, which was quickly supplied.
Within an hour of her arrival, she had bathed and changed, and was making her way down the stairs to the sounds of conversation and laughter.
There was not a soul there that she knew. Neither her father nor the Franklyns had yet reached the drawing room, but Mr Bucknell and his sister, seeing her enter and hover on the threshold, rose from their seats and came across to greet her.
“My dear lady,” Mr Bucknell said, “what a charming addition to our company! I only wish we had a few more young men here to entertain you, but you will just have to make do with elderly bachelors like myself and a few married men, ha ha ha!”
Since Olivia knew from Lady Esther that he was only thirty-six, she merely smiled at this raillery and allowed herself to be led around the room and introduced to a great many people whose names she promptly forgot.
Mr Bucknell had just settled her beside a thin-faced woman in a pale muslin gown best suited to someone twenty years younger, who was eyeing Olivia with barely disguised disapproval, when the door opened and the butler entered.
“The Earl of Kiltarlity, the Countess of Kiltarlity, the Lady Elizabeth Osborn, the Lady Lucilla Osborn,” he intoned.
There was a surprised murmuring around the room. This, then, was not expected.
Mr Bucknell and his sister sprang forward to greet the arrivals, but Osborn had already spotted Olivia. His face breaking into an enormous smile, he strode past the Bucknells, quite oblivious, and straight to where Olivia sat, making her an elegant bow.
“Fair ghost, how enchanting to see you again… complete with dimple! I am growing excessively fond of that dimple. Have you been here long?”
Before Olivia could answer, the thin-faced woman coughed delicately. Olivia took the hint. “Oh… oh, yes, may I present to you Lord Kiltarlity, ma’am? And this is… erm…”
“Lady Douglas Bucknell,” she simpered, holding out her hand, and with a nod to the empty sofa space beside her, added, “Do sit down, Lord Kiltarlity.”
“Ma’am,” he said, with a the slightest bow of his head, before pulling forward a chair to sit beside Olivia instead.
“So tell me of your journey. Are you here with Lady Esther? What do you think of Leicestershire? Shall you join the hunt? Many ladies do, and I am sure you are an accomplished horsewoman.”
“So many questions!” Olivia said, laughing, but her spirits rose inexorably.
So much eagerness in his expression, and those laughing eyes!
A girl could be quite swept away by those eyes.
“Let me see… the journey went as well as could be expected. Yes, I am here with Lady Esther, and also Mr Franklyn and Papa, but they are still settling in upstairs. I have not seen enough of Leicestershire yet to comment on it. What was the last question?”
“I cannot remember,” he said. “How can I think at all when that dimple is entrancing me so?”
Olivia blushed. “Izzy told me you were a dreadful flirt, sir, and I can see that she was right.”
“A flirt? Me?” he said. “You wound me to the heart, my lovely ghost. What have I said of flattery? Is not every word true?”
“I do not think a gentleman should comment on a lady’s dimple, sir,” she said severely. “Ah, there is Papa!”
Osborn’s sigh was audible as she jumped up and hurried across the room to tuck her arm into Papa’s.
“How glad I am you have come at last!” she cried. “You must tell Lord Kiltarlity he is not to flirt with me.”
“Kiltarlity, eh? I had no idea he was staying here.”
“He is not, I think, but—”