Chapter 6
THE EARL’S CONFESSION
“James, why has Mortlake invited us to dinner tonight?” Cecilia asked when he’d wandered into her dressing room, attired for the evening.
“I don’t know,” James said as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt under his jacket. “But it falls in line with our needs, so I am more than happy to have dinner with them.”
“Yes, I know,” said Cecilia. Seated at her dressing table, she looked into her mirror at her lady’s maid. “Sarah, stop fussing. It looks suitable for dinner at a neighbor’s. We are not going to a ball!” she admonished Sarah with a gentle smile.
Sarah ruefully backed away. Cecilia rose and turned toward James. “I would like to understand his motivations. Does he want something from us? I don’t expect this to be a casual dinner event.”
James looked at Cecilia. “No, you’re probably correct. However, it doesn’t do us any good to ponder the whys and the wherefores at this time. If you are ready, we should make our way downstairs. I ordered the coach to go to the Mortlake estate.”
“Not your phaeton?” Cecilia asked.
“No,” James said with a slight smile.
Cecilia looked at him and smiled back, knowing they would have George Romley as their coachman. Romley would question the grooms about Mrs. Jones’s horse, among other things.
She and James were often of a like mind on their inquiries without a word spoken between them.
“Yes, of course,” she said instead. “Let me grab my shawl.” She picked up her beautiful Indian silk shawl, which her lady’s maid had laid out for her.
It had been a gift from Rani, sent from India.
She followed James out of her dressing room.
He took her arm in his as they walked down the stairs and out of the door to their coach.
The trip to the Mortlake estate was quick. They did not live far from them, though the Mortlake estate properties extended quite a way in the other direction. They were almost their closest neighbor, aside from the Aldriches.
When they arrived at the estate, the Mortlake butler was awaiting them and quickly escorted them inside.
Mortlake came out of the drawing room to the right.
The earl was a tall man, nearly as tall as Sir James, and walked with an extremely upright posture.
Eschewing the somber gray he’d worn at the inquest, he’d donned a bottle-green jacket over a muted green and brown striped waistcoat.
He wore his curly, liberally gray-streaked brown hair brushed back away from his prominent forehead and cut to his collar in the back.
“Welcome, welcome. I’m glad you could come. Come on in here. Dinner will be served shortly, but can I get you a preprandial?”
They agreed to a drink and followed the earl into a beautifully accoutered pale-green drawing room done in the Georgian style with white panel moldings and tasteful peach-colored accents.
Lady Mortlake sat on a peach sofa, acknowledging their entry with a smile, a softly spoken hello, and a gracious incline of her head.
Though a blonde fading to gray, she was still a striking woman with few lines on her face.
Her bronze gown of the latest fashion shimmered in the candlelight.
With a wave of his hand, the earl indicated Cecilia should join his wife on the sofa and Sir James the chair to the left while he poured their drinks.
As smiling and gracious as Lady Mortlake’s manner was, to Cecilia’s eye, she seemed stiff, her features tight.
Cecilia felt that the woman wasn’t pleased with their being at their home for dinner.
But as this was an invitation her husband had extended, she appeared determined to play the gracious hostess.
The earl handed Cecilia a glass of sherry and one to his wife as well, then handed James a glass of port. Then he sat down in the chair at a right angle to where his wife sat on the sofa, and easily crossed his long legs.
He held his glass loosely between his fingers as he soberly looked at them.
“I’m sure you’re curious as to why I invited you here for dinner.
” He straightened slightly. “We have been meaning to do so for a while, but with your having a young son, we haven’t done so.
However, with the events that occurred yesterday, I felt it behooved us to get better acquainted. ”
“Agreed,” James said before he took a sip of port.
“We have heard of your investigative exploits,” Mortlake continued. “Deaths, thefts, kidnappings, and wrongful arrests…” He shook his head. “Your amazing reputation precedes you.”
Cecilia laughed and demurred. “I wouldn’t say amazing. Curious, perhaps, but not intentional.”
Sir James smiled at his wife as he nodded.
The earl waved his hand negligently. “Regardless of whether intentional or not, I should like to request your services to carefully investigate the situation surrounding Mrs. Jones’s death.”
James and Cecilia exchanged glances. “No need to make a request,” Sir James said smoothly as he relaxed back into his chair. “We have already determined to do so.”
The earl nodded. “Good. I think…” he said slowly, first looking toward his wife before he continued, “I need to provide you a bit more information regarding Mrs. Jones. She probably has more friends than enemies; however, those enemies could be more dangerous than others.”
“Dangerous?” Sir James echoed, a dark brow rising.
Mortlake uncrossed his legs, sat straighter, and took a large drink of his port before he continued. “As you might have heard by now, the Joneses have two daughters, Faith and Hope. They are twins in their early twenties—two years older than my son, the viscount.”
“Yes, the vicar told us.”
The earl nodded. He set his glass on the table placed beside his chair and rested his elbows on the chair arms, steepling his fingers. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “They are actually my daughters,” he confessed.
Sir James and Cecilia looked at each other, but did not interrupt.
“Miranda and I had an affair when I was still at the university. And being young, impetuous, and stupid, I took advantage of a very nice and decent young woman.”
Cecilia looked over at Lady Mortlake. She sat studiously looking down at her hands, clasping her glass. Cecilia looked back at the Earl of Mortlake.
“Of course, my father did not want me to have to marry Miranda; she did not come from a family considered worthy of the Countess title, and I can’t say I desired marriage with her.
I was a young and foolish man—without proper regard for a gently reared woman—feeling his oats.
But Father said we must make what amends as we could and help her and the unborn babe as much as possible.
At that time, we thought it was only one child.
“Father sent Mr. Bennett, one of his estate stewards, to investigate Miranda and to see if there were any young men in the area who might want to marry her. From gossip in the village tavern, he learned Septimus Jones was sweet on her. Some tavern patrons teased him about her and how she was looking higher than a curate. Mr. Jones was growing angry at how they were bantering her name around, so Mr. Bennett got him out of there before any fights broke out.”
He stopped for a moment to take a sip of his drink. “It was a fortuitous meeting,” he continued. “They talked, and Jones admitted he loved Miranda and had for years, but was afraid to approach her because, unfortunately, she had stars in her eyes when she looked at me,” the earl admitted, wincing.
“Father did some investigation and discovered that Septimus Jones was looking for a position.
He did not have the connections many others did, being younger sons of aristocracy, when they completed seminary training.
As it happened, the Mortlake living here in Mertonhaugh was in need of a new vicar.
Not many people realized it was part of the Mortlake estate, as this is not our principal property.
My grandfather built a new, larger estate in Sussex that we adopted as the Mortlake seat.
“Father arranged for Mr. Jones to be offered the living in Mertonhaugh.
Jones was naturally surprised when he was offered the living and, for a time, did not know it was connected to my family.
Mr. Bennett congratulated him and said he now would have the funds to support a wife, and he encouraged him to ask Miranda to marry him.
“By that time, Mr. Jones knew she was with child but said he still wanted to marry her. Miranda was despondent, but at the same time grateful, and she went ahead and married Septimus Jones. After the wedding they came here, to Mertonhaugh.
“I did not come here. I stayed at our other estate in Sussex. I did not feel that I should put myself forward in any way that would cause her or Mr. Jones discomfort. We—particularly my father—wanted the best for them. He never held her at fault.”
“Your father sounds like he was a very good man,” James said.
Mortlake smiled. “Yes, he was. He was strict in many ways, but he was a good man. Then I met Clementia, here,” he said, looking at his wife, “and fell in love with her.”
Cecilia saw Lady Mortlake look up at him then, and they exchanged smiles. She was gratified to see that the story the earl was telling them had not harmed their relationship.
Mortlake looked back at Sir James and Cecilia.
“Father insisted that I tell her everything, that there should be no secrets in our marriage, and I have.” He looked again at his wife and this time reached out his hand to hers and squeezed it.
“It was she who encouraged me to see that the girls had good educations and did not lack for the things young girls love.”
He dropped her hand and continued more soberly. “We have had a good marriage. I’m incredibly happy. We have only been blessed with one child, but we are happy.”