In which hands are revealing
Unfortunately, detecting a lie doesn’t always reveal the truth.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
Judith sighed. Lord Triskett spun to stare at Mr Fortnew, eyes widening in shock.
The duke lowered his teacup and straightened his shoulders. “Isobel, you wretch. What gave me away?”
Her ladyship grinned, arch sharpness giving way to something like joy. It lit her face into beauty, and even Judith found it mesmerising. “Your hands, Dacian. I would know them anywhere.”
Suddenly, she was less mesmerising and more annoying. Everyone looked at Dacian’s hands: his long fingers curled around the teacup. Isobel clearly admired the strength and shape of them. Then a frown settled on her face, and she stood abruptly, slamming down her own cup.
“How dare you?” she uttered. “How dare you leave England and never send word!”
She marched over to him and leaned forward threateningly. Dacian backed up against the mantlepiece, his expression alarmed. Judith was torn between satisfaction that he was receiving his due, and irritation that she wasn’t the only one who had waited in vain for a letter from him.
“You cruel man!” continued Isobel. “I thought you were dead! Why didn’t you write?”
“Ah…” said Dacian. “Correspondence was difficult… likely to be intercepted…”
“So you did send word?” Isobel thrust her chin forward.
“Er…”
“No, you did not.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “While I was wasting away with worry, I suppose you were frolicking across the continent, wreaking a trail of seduction!”
“Er…” said Dacian again, but he did not deny it. Instead, his cheeks flushed a dull red. Judith shook her head and took a sip of tea.
“Yes,” said Isobel bitterly. “Exactly.” She spun around with a swish of green muslin and retreated in disgust. “You are monstrous.” She sat down with a huff.
“By God, it is you, Sargen!” Lord Triskett spoke at last. “I can’t believe it!”
Dacian turned with gratitude. “Biscuit! What do you think of my disguise? You didn’t know me, at least!”
Lord Triskett walked over and clapped Dacian on the back, smiling. “Good God, no. What is that ridiculous thing on your face?”
“The mole?” Dacian’s finger came up to hover over it. “An inspired touch, I thought.”
“No, the moustache.” Lord Triskett grimaced. “You look like you’ve come from a circus. Where did you find that thing?”
Dacian put his cup on the mantlepiece, avoiding an immediate answer. Lord Triskett might know about the Musing, realised Judith, but she was not certain of Lady Vosse. They ought not speak of Illusion until they were certain.
“A little shop in London,” said Dacian finally. “I thought it best to be careful while travelling in these parts. A local might turn me in, if they recognise the wicked duke .” He cast a sideways look at Isobel.
Isobel blushed prettily and seemed to recover from her sulks. “Oh, don’t tease me - you know very well you are wicked. But why are you in these parts?” she demanded. “Why did you send for Biscuit? It is all very mysterious.”
Dacian raised his brows. “I might ask why you accompany him, my dear.”
Lord Triskett coughed nervously. “Er, Isobel was with me - when I opened your letter. I was thunderstruck, as you can imagine, and she insisted on reading it. I hope you don’t mind, Sargen.”
Judith flicked her eyes between them, seeing Isobel’s creamy cheeks crimson further. It seemed they were indeed intimate, as Isobel had been at Lord Triskett’s home in the morning when he read his post.
Dacian also eyed them. “Is that so? It is a private matter, but I suppose you might be able to help me also, Isobel.” He paused, weighing his words. “I find myself curious about the night I shot Lord Garvey and I wanted to ask you about it, Biscuit. Did you see anyone else come up from the gardens that night, before me?”
Lord Triskett frowned. “I don’t think so. No.”
He wasn’t lying, Judith observed, and took another sip of her tea.
Isobel stared from one to the other. “But why do you ask that, Dacian?”
“It is a private matter,” said Dacian. “Suffice to say, I don’t think everything was exactly as it seemed that night.”
“Goodness me, how intriguing!” Isobel clapped her hands together. Then she turned to look at Judith with sudden suspicion. “It this something to do with her? Why are you here together?”
Judith spoke coolly. “I came to visit Harriet Bollopher, on an unrelated matter.”
“Mrs Bollopher?” Isobel seemed disbelieving. “Garvey’s mother-in-law? She’s dead; has been for years.”
“I didn’t know that,” replied Judith. “I am sorry for her loss. I wish I had known her better.”
Isobel looked down. “Yes, quite.”
Dacian held up a hand. “Lady Avely wished to invite Miss Georgina to London. Hearing of her proposed visit, I thought I would accompany her, to make my own enquiries.”
Isobel’s eyes flickered between them with obvious suspicion. Suddenly Judith was reminded how her ladyship had watched them from above the greenhouse, nine years ago while Dacian had tried to comfort her.
She decided to turn the tables. “Lady Vosse, you say you did not meet Lord Garvey that night, but perchance you sent a note to his grace, instead?”
Her ladyship sat up straight with hostility. “Excuse me? What is it to you if I sent Dacian a note? Are you his postboy now?” She gave a throaty laugh. “It would be a demanding position, I’m sure. Not that he bothers to send any correspondence worth mentioning.” She gave him a bitter look, remembering her grievances.
“I don’t know why you expected any word from me, Isobel,” said Dacian, with a hint of asperity. “I was on the run; I couldn’t write letters, and then I took refuge in a monastery.”
Isobel laughed in genuine amusement. “You? A monastery? Come now, I know very well you were causing havoc in Spain for the Crown. Either way, you must be very glad to be returning to the comforts of home.”
Judith narrowed her eyes; Isobel’s presumption was no less than what she had wondered. Dacian would not have sat idle in Spain while it was allied with France against England. His talk of the monastery might be true, but it wouldn’t account for his whole nine years’ abroad.
“Ahem,” said Dacian, and frowned Isobel down. “I enjoyed the monastery, I’ll have you know. A welcome respite from females.”
Isobel chortled in obvious disbelief. “You can’t go a week without female company.”
Dacian’s jaw tightened, but he did not deign to reply.
“Well, Sargen,” said Lord Triskett hastily, “I did not suspect you of asceticism! I have that money I owe you from all those years ago, if you need it now. A thousand pounds, wasn’t it?”
Dacian looked surprised, then nodded slowly. “I’d forgotten about that.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “You know I don’t need it, Biscuit.”
“He’s a duke,” scoffed Isobel, and fluttered her lashes at Dacian. “Of course he doesn’t need it. Are you well? You look hale and hearty as always.”
Judith was aware of a desire to put her hands around that graceful neck and squeeze tightly.
“Well enough,” Dacian replied. “My return to England has not been a gentle enfolding, I confess. There have been all manner of thrilling events at Sargenet.” He then proceeded to distract them all from his current quest by giving an expurgated account of the misdeeds troubling his own estate. These were melodramatic enough to cause much interest, and Judith, seeing that Lady Vosse and Lord Triskett were utterly enthralled, decided that she would retreat to her room. The three were old friends and could do without her company. And she could do with some time alone.
Dacian did little to stop her, and Isobel was politely dismissive, waving a hand and turning again to stare with admiration at her old lover.
Judith had a lunch tray sent up to her room. The cauliflower soup and bread were rather tasteless and sat in her stomach heavily. When she laid upon her bed, she found that the call of an afternoon sleep was overpowering. Dacian might think he was irresistible, she told herself, but nothing was more seductive than a nap. She allowed herself to succumb to its soothing embrace.
When she arose half an hour later, she had a new sense of fortitude and determination. If Dacian was busy entertaining his old friend and past paramour, it was now time for her to call on Mrs Selina Southcott.
Opening her door, she saw that Robert stood outside the parlour, staunchly keeping to his role as footman. Well, she could play that game too. Casually, she asked if he had managed to deliver her calling card to Mrs Southcott; when he affirmed it, she requested his company for the follow-up visit. He nodded and they crept past the parlour together. Judith could still hear the rise and fall of conversation between the three friends, punctuated by Isobel’s throaty laugh. It seemed Dacian would be well occupied. Perhaps he was, in his own way, trying to find out more about what had happened at the house party.
Robert was quick to call the duke’s carriage out and assist Judith in, then swing himself up to the rear. Judith sighed. It was all very tiresome, and she had a strong suspicion that both Robert and Dacian simply liked hanging onto a moving vehicle just for the sport of it. It was the kind of thing that Peregrine would do if he could find any excuse.
They arrived at Southcott Hall shortly; it lay only ten minutes south of Garvey House. As she dismounted, Judith examined the small two-story cottage. The redbrick building lay behind a gate that was covered in a flowering briar rose. ‘Hall’ was a rather grand name for the residence, and any air of dignity was further punctured by the chickens pecking in the yard. Judith could also hear the braying of a donkey close by. This was a farmer’s home, no doubt, and did not measure up to the elegance and wealth of the Garvey property. Miss Selina Pelling had chosen her suitor according to the dictates of love, not money.
Lifting her skirts, Judith nodded to Robert as he opened the gate for her. “Keep close, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Robert lowered his voice. “And you be careful.”
Judith glanced around, and her gaze lighted on a glimpse of a girlish figure disappearing behind the stable. She narrowed her eyes. That had looked very much like Georgina Garvey’s slim form. What was she doing here, at Southcott Hall? And why did her movements seem furtive?
Robert stepped forward to knock, and Judith turned back to face the house. A cheerful, round housekeeper opened the door, wearing a sensible navy gown and white apron. Any similarity with Mrs Froode was vanquished by the curtsy and welcoming smile she gave Robert. He announced Judith’s title and stepped aside.
“My lady,” said the housekeeper. “We are honoured. Mrs Southcott is expecting you. This way, if you please.”
Reluctantly leaving Robert outside, Judith followed the housekeeper, stepping out of the autumn sunlight and into the dark hallway. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a small, untidy boy disappear round a corner. The servant led her to a comfortable drawing room and went to fetch her mistress. Judith took a moment to admire the warm tones of the rugs and cushions, and the sleeping dog in front of the hearth.
Then Mrs Selina Southcott stood in the doorway, holding a young girl by the hand. They both stared at Judith curiously.
Selina was still pretty, Judith saw, though her face had lost the smooth plumpness of youth. Her fine bosom was no longer on display in the ruched, ornate gowns of nine years ago, but now contained in a much more practical garment, with simple lines in blue cotton. Her light blonde hair was done up, under a matching blue mobcap. The little girl had blonde ringlets, tied up in a ribbon, and blinked at Judith warily.
Mrs Southcott dropped a delayed curtsy. “Lady Avely.” She turned to the housekeeper who hovered close behind. “Please, some tea and bread, Mrs Kendall, and take Sophia with you.” Ushering the girl away, Selina gestured Judith towards a cosy armchair. “To what do I owe this honour, my lady?”
Judith did not answer straightaway. “I thought I saw Miss Georgina Garvey outside just now. Has she come to call upon you today as well?”
Mrs Southcott looked surprised as she took her place across from Judith. “Not today.” She paused. “She does visit me sometimes; we are old friends and neighbours.”
Judith folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward. She had put some thought into her excuse and stated it now with confidence. “Miss Georgina is the reason for my visit, actually. I called on Lady Garvey for the first time in years, and I find myself a little concerned about Miss Georgina’s welfare. I hoped to speak to you about it, as her nearest neighbour.”
Mrs Southcott bent to pat the golden-haired dog by the fire, shooting Judith a shrewd look. “Ah, yes. Are you concerned for Georgina’s health, as is Lady Garvey?”
“Quite the opposite. Miss Georgina seemed strong and full of vitality to me. My fear is that Lady Garvey’s anxieties are keeping her granddaughter unduly stifled…” Judith trailed off, leaving a suggestive silence.
Mrs Southcott sighed. “I fear you are right. It isn’t right for a young girl to play nursemaid and gardener all the time, shut up in that mausoleum.”
“Gardener?” said Judith sharply.
“Oh yes. At least Georgina has some sunshine and activity in that way. She has a green thumb like her mother reputedly did. She spends long hours in the garden and greenhouse. Yet,” added Selina, “she is of an age where she should be spending more time with her contemporaries, and looking for a husband. I invite Georgina here, but I am afraid I don’t provide much society for her. There are not many young men in the village, and even if there were, Lady Garvey keeps her cloistered.”
“She needs a season in London,” said Judith. “I invited her to my daughter’s wedding as a sort of introduction, but Lady Garvey will have none of it. Would she listen to you, if you spoke on my behalf?”
Mrs Southcott pursed her lips. “I doubt it. Lady Garvey is selfish and fixed in her ways, and does not want to exert herself. She keeps the house shut up and pretends she is out to any visitors - I only know the truth because I walk over there myself to meet Georgy when I can, though I am so busy now, and Georgy sneaks over here.”
“It is curious that Lady Garvey keeps it so shuttered,” agreed Judith. “Do you know why she does so?”
Selina gave a little shrug and patted her dog again. “Perhaps she is simply lazy. It was much better when Harriet was alive - you know, Georgina’s other grandmother. She kept the place in order, but now that Harriet is gone, it is falling to wrack and ruin.”
“Hm,” said Judith. “How did Harriet die?”
“They say it was heart trouble,” said Selina cautiously.
Judith leaned forward. “Often the heart gives way at times of sorrow or anger. Was Harriet burdened with anything like that, when she passed?”
Selina stiffened, drawing a breath. Unfortunately, before she could respond, Mrs Kendall returned with the tea tray and disrupted the moment. Only once she had poured the tea - slowly and distractedly - did Selina respond to Judith’s question.
“You are perspicacious, my lady. In the week before she died, Harriet visited me. She appeared to be under some sort of strain.”
“What sort of strain?” Judith pressed, as she took her tea.
“I’m not sure. She was nervous and preoccupied. She said she had argued fiercely with someone, but she did not say whom.” Selina sighed. “Whoever it was, they must feel dreadfully guilty.”
Hot tea scaled Judith’s tongue. She narrowed her eyes. “Guilty? Why?”
“To have contributed to Harriet’s death,” said Selina, with raised brows. “If, as you say, anger can make the heart seize up.”
Judith took another cautious sip to gain a moment. What had Harriet discovered? Had she, by some awful chance, realised that there was more to Lord Garvey’s death than met the eye? Or was the quarrel over some other matter?
She grasped the opportunity to make enquires. “Do you have any idea with whom she might have argued? Was Lord Kenneth in town? Or any other visitor?”
Selina frowned. “Lord Kenneth was staying at the Golden Bat at the time. Though if he was to argue with anyone it would be his own mother. They detest each other, I’m afraid to say.”
“It is odd, I must say, that Kenneth doesn’t reside at his own home.”
Selina winced. “He can’t bear to be around his mother. She always favoured Charles and she was heartbroken when he died. Kenneth knows Lady Garvey would rather have lost him. It is a burden for him to bear, and I cannot blame him for keeping his distance.”
Judith was glad that Selina had brought the conversation around to Charles’ death of her own accord. “Ah, that was a dreadful night, wasn’t it? You must have been devastated to lose your fiancé.”
Selina gave her a direct look. “It was not so great a loss to me as one might suppose. Indeed, as I think you saw for yourself at the time, I entered the engagement with a sense of oppression. I was grateful to the Duke of Sargen for dispatching Lord Garvey, for he saved me from an odious marriage.”
Judith held her gaze. “You did not seem to be an eager bride.” She paused, weighing her next words. “Would you have taken measures to escape the marriage, perhaps?”
Selina blinked. “I had little choice but to proceed,” she said carefully. “I was so young, and my parents had arranged the match.” She gave a deep sigh. “I owe his grace an undying debt of gratitude.”
She shivered slightly, and the tea quivered in her cup. Beside her, the golden dog stirred in his sleep.
Judith’s eyes narrowed. She had a sudden suspicion, and she was determined to ask the next question, even if it was intrusive. “Were you with Charles on the night that he died? In the maze?”