Chapter 18 #3
“Neither do prying eyes.” Hyperia came to a halt, went up on her toes, and kissed me.
Never had winter apparel been more of a frustration to mortal man than on that occasion to me, though the interlude was surpassingly enjoyable nonetheless. We ended up in a panting embrace, holding each other as much for mutual support as for pleasure.
“You have been under a very great strain,” I said. “I’m sorry.” Regrets and a troubled conscience had haunted Hyperia with our every kiss and embrace, but I realized the burden she’d been carrying only now that those regrets had been aired and put aside.
My intended was a ferociously talented kisser.
“Discretion is one thing,” Hyperia said, pressing a chilly nose against my throat. “Deception quite another. I could not ignore that I’d crossed the line. Let’s keep moving, or we will become ice sculptures.”
I took her hand, and we reached the bridge separating the properties.
“You first,” I said, handing her up. “Shuffle, don’t march, and hold tight to the rail.”
“I am not an infant, Julian.” She’d imitated my mother to the life.
“I am your doting fiancé. Humor me.”
We made it safely across and indulged in another spate of kissing. I stepped back and fixed my gaze on the stars winking into view overhead.
“Hyperia West, if you do not control your enthusiasms, I will arrive at Glen Maye in such a state that Lady Clotilda will know precisely where my thoughts have been dwelling.”
“Meaning she will know where my thoughts have been dwelling as well. Tell me the rest of it. You grasped that Bryson was being mistaken for some other malefactor. That wasn’t the whole tale.”
We had resumed walking arm in arm, likely in defense of our mutual dignity.
“I noticed a pair of muddy boots in Algernon’s rooms at a mid-afternoon hour.
The bootboy would have collected any boots left in the corridor the previous evening, meaning that at some point in the previous, say, eighteen hours, Algernon had been abroad where the footing was muddy.
The mud wasn’t thoroughly dry, neither was it strictly fresh.
I thought nothing of it at the time, but Algernon had apparently been skulking about the pond after dark, up to no good. ”
No good he’d intended to befall his brother rather than Atticus, which hardly redounded to his credit.
“Muddy boots. Interesting. What else?”
“I have already mentioned that Wren and Bryson all but ignored each other when he and I first arrived at the Keep. I also noticed that when Wren was enumerating possible husbands for Philomel, she listed Algernon, a couple of gentry swains, and even Dunsford himself as eligible, but not Bryson. An odd oversight, unless Wren was convinced that Bryson was not, in fact, eligible.”
“He’s the pick of the litter, if you ask me. What about Algernon’s hand in matters? What else raised your suspicions?”
“Algernon has a certain abrasive charm, which does not obscure the fact that he is responsible for the succession. He should be married, by Society’s lights.”
“You would be sensitive to that. I certainly was. I am.”
“If I kiss you now, Miss West, the Caldicott succession might soon be one step closer to security.”
The fiendish woman bussed my cheek. “You are very good with children, you know. Even babies.”
“I like babies. Bryson mentioned that Algernon had two by-blows, both extant before Bryson went to Spain years ago. Two babies and then years of unrelenting propriety? I did wonder. Then too, Algernon is the individual who ought to have been most interested in taking a bride, especially when marriage to Philomel would secure the largest remaining portion of the Delaplane settlements.”
“And,” Hyperia said, “the baron wasn’t about to remarry, not when the fair Lady Clo held him by the heart, and if he did marry her ladyship, the union would not have been fruitful. Ergo, Algernon was shirking.”
“Or, Algernon was facing a fate worse than being a perpetual bachelor, namely being in perpetual disgrace. I turned my thoughts to what sorts of scandals Algernon would fear most, and that was confusing.”
We’d reached the edge of the trees, and the lights of Glen Maye shone across the park.
“Confusing, how?”
“Algernon has an unmentionable disease, Perry. He’s not going bald on top, as most men do.
He’s lost a patch of hair off to the side, which he disguises with artful brushing.
He wears those two cravats to hide a rash on his neck.
I saw the rash when I came upon him in dishabille and thought he’d simply trussed his cravats up too snugly.
He retires to his rooms every afternoon, ostensibly to commune with the estate ledgers, very likely to rest.”
“Syphilis?”
“Afraid so. Bryson has likely deduced his brother’s ailment, or he soon will. What puzzled me was that if Algernon is unable to sire healthy children, he should have been that much more determined to bring Bryson home and see him married.”
“But he wasn’t, because again, some scandal interfered with filial loyalty. What is it with brothers, Jules? My own is no paragon, and yours…”
“My extant brother is a paragon. Algernon falls far short. I reasoned that Algernon had a hand in keeping Bryson in Surrey, and neither passion nor revenge motivated the banishment. That left financial considerations. The funds most frequently under discussion have been the Delaplane settlements, which Algernon all but admitted to taking over from his father. The baron cannot manage his Keep, which boded ill for the health of the Delaplane settlements.”
“All very logical in hindsight, though I’d say setting Bryson up to fall through the ice again came close to vengeful as well. I will see you breaking that ice in my nightmares for years to come.”
“Algernon was desperate, and that incident led to my first substantial clue.” I took Hyperia’s hand, and we resumed walking, though not in any hurry.
“Algernon claimed that a mishap such as the one that befell Atticus had not happened in Algernon’s lifetime.
Atticus and Bryson went into the pond in nearly the same spot, and yet, Algernon forgot Bryson’s youthful incident?
As entangled as the Carstairs menfolk were with each other even in boyhood, I did not believe Algernon had forgotten such a dangerous occasion. ”
“Shoving you off the bridge was more dangerous.”
“Trying to shove me, and I’m sure Miss Quiggan will deal severely with Algernon for that mischief.
He was so solicitous of my welfare immediately after I stumbled out of the woods that I nearly missed the peculiarity of him smoking on the terrace after dark.
In this bitter cold, a creature like Algernon enamored of his comforts would avail himself of a smoking parlor or smoking jacket in his own parlor. ”
“You are always on the lookout for inconsistent behavior,” Hyperia murmured. “Like Wren searching Bryson’s apartment for him when she’d been avoiding him all evening?”
“Precisely. They danced not a single dance together, shared not a single hand of cards, but she risked scandal by supposedly searching for him in his own rooms. She had probably just left the nasty note in my sitting room and had another threatening epistle to leave in Bryson’s.”
We’d reached the bottom of the steps, and rather than accept my escort to the terrace, Hyperia sat on the cold stones and patted the place beside her.
I obliged, ever willing to spend more time with my beloved, and tucked an arm around her shoulders.
“Wren might have followed me from the ballroom,” Hyperia said. “If Wren meant that poisoned punch for me, or if she’d seen Algernon send it my way, only to have the duchess imbibe, Wren would be sufficiently alarmed to keep a watch on her victim.”
“The weakened ice was Algernon’s doing. The assault on my person was his doing as well, but Wren would not have attributed either measure to her bluff and agreeable neighbor Algernon.
The punch was her desperate measure to dissuade my inquiries—she has much to apologize for too—and it nearly worked.
You are right that she would have intended the punch for you.
We’ve said not a word regarding the duchess’s poor digestion, so perhaps Wren believes her little scheme bore no consequences. ”
“Do we tell Bryson?”
“Bryson will have his hands full putting the Keep to rights. I suspect the finances are in worse condition than he fears.”
The stone steps were frigid, though my greatcoat was some protection, and I wanted to tarry beside my beloved as long as possible. We had yet to make travel plans, much less wedding plans.
“You suspect the finances are a mess because of the stone walls in disrepair and the bridge being a hazard?” Hyperia asked.
“The horses are uniformly too skinny, and Atticus noticed that the stable lads were all fairly venerable. The inside staff is on the mature side as well, nobody taking a pension who should be eligible for one. The staff knew of the baron’s difficulties with figures and are likely staying on out of loyalty to the family. ”
“How will they manage, Jules?” She let her head fall to my shoulder.
“The Carstairs family has some advantages. Without coin in hand, they won’t sink a vast fund into enclosures, and that means the goodwill of the local folk will still be available.
The looming disaster of the Delaplanes’ mismanaged settlements has been resolved.
Bryson is solvent, and his land marches with the Keep’s acres.
If the baron marries Lady Clotilda, some much-needed cash might find its way to the Keep’s coffers.
Miss Quiggan is an heiress, and Sandy Quiggan won’t make too great a fuss about Philomel’s funds.
Many factors must line up propitiously, but hope is not lost.”
“I’m tired,” Hyperia said, yawning behind her hand. “This was a complicated investigation that grew more dangerous than I’d anticipated. Have you heard from Healy?”
I was tired as well, but my spirits were in good repair. Hyperia and I were firmly in charity with each other, the puzzle had been solved, and I would soon quit Hampshire for the comforts of the Hall.
“Healy has come through for the forces of justice, confronting Duquette about sums owed, meaning a few pounds, paid before witnesses. He also let Duquette know that you hold all of Duquette’s vowels, as well as his commercial debts, and will expect repayment immediately.
Healy reports that Duquette caught a packet for the Low Countries, which are said to be even more affordable than France. ”
“Also farther away and less populated with Britain’s fashionable Society on tour. Thank you, Jules. Thank you exceedingly, for everything.”
“The pleasure is mine, Hyperia West. All mine.” Hyperia West, soon to be Hyperia Caldicott, Lady Julian.
The stars in their glorious firmament faded beside the wonder of that thought, and yet, my dearest and I would have to weather a few more puzzles and challenges before we found ourselves at the altar. One particularly vexing intrigue awaited us upon our return to Caldicott Hall.
But that, of course, is a tale for another time!