Chapter 11
Arabella was worn out. She’d returned home early, much to the relief of her brother.
As soon as she got to the townhouse, Philip had told her to go inside alone and he would return later.
Arabella didn’t need to guess that he was going to have a few strong drinks before he stumbled back and made a lot of noise.
Much to her surprise, when she opened her eyes the next morning, she didn’t recall being woken up by her brother. She’d slept right through it, unless Philip hadn’t come home at all. But even though she’d slept deeply, she felt exhausted. How was that possible?
Possibly because of everything still turning over in her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to process it all properly, worried about what she might start thinking further. But she needed to know what had happened; she couldn’t carry on like this.
Once she’d washed and dressed, Arabella made her way downstairs. She was almost halfway down when the butler opened the door, and Clara entered the foyer. She stopped in surprise.
“Clara? What are you doing here?”
“We arranged for me to come over this morning.” Her friend frowned. “Are you telling me that you forgot?”
“I… of course not,” Arabella said quickly. Then she sighed at the skeptical look on Clara’s face. “All right, I did forget. I’ve only just gotten up.”
Clara sighed.
“Honestly, I swear you can’t take anything in. We talked about it in detail.”
“I know…” Arabella rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s difficult for me to figure out what’s going on at the moment.”
Her friend’s expression softened, and she approached Arabella, clasping her hands firmly.
“I know. It’s going to take some time to get used to the new normal.”
“Even after all this time?”
“Some people don’t recover from their grip for years.”
Arabella groaned.
“Thank you for making me feel so much better, Clara. I really needed to hear that right now.”
“Someone’s got to keep up your spirits,” Clara replied with a slight smile.
Before Arabella could make a retort back, there was a banging on the door. Taking Clara’s arm, Arabella steered them into the morning room. It was a warm, sunny day, and the sunlight streamed in through the huge windows. Even with the warmth from the sun, there was a cool breeze in the air.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Arabella said, turning to her friend before they sat on the settee by the window. “The Duke of Hartwood is here.”
“What?” Clara blinked. “He’s coming here?”
“Yes. He said he would visit me and we could have a look at the account books together.” Arabella bit her lip, wondering if she was saying too much. “There was something suspicious, and I wanted to show him.”
Clara pursed her lips.
“I know you told me this was your only way to find any evidence against Hartwood regarding your father’s death, but don’t you think this could get a little… complicated?”
“How so?”
“Well, what if you actually start liking him? That would break your heart, wouldn’t it?”
Arabella was surprised. Her friend actually thought she could fall for someone like the Duke of Hartwood. Yes, he was handsome. She thought he was attractive, and she felt her heart fluttering whenever he was around, not to mention the fact they could talk so easily about anything and everything…
But that didn’t mean anything. She had a job to do, and the duke had offered up a chance. She couldn’t let herself lower her guard. It would be too dangerous, and almost like she was betraying her father. She couldn’t do that.
Even if she was tempted.
A knock at the door made her jump, and Arabella looked up to see the butler stick his head into the room.
“The Duke of Hartwood has arrived, my lady,” he said, his expression blank but his tone suggesting curiosity.
“Send him in, Archibald.”
“Very well, my lady. Also, there was a delivery from the authorities earlier this morning. It’s your father’s personal possessions.” Archibald paused. “Would you like me to leave them in the study?”
Arabella felt a tingling on the back of her neck. How had it taken this long to get her father’s personal belongings? Even so, there had to be something to point out that there was foul play. The inquest had also come out with an accidental death, even with her protests at the time.
Hopefully, she could find something that wasn’t found by anyone else.
“Bring them in here, Archibald. I will have a look at it myself. And send the duke in.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Archibald disappeared, and a moment later, Hartwood entered. Arabella did her best not to openly stare at him. He looked like a wild animal prowling through the tall grass, sleek and comfortable. She felt a little lightheaded at the sight.
Then she noticed Clara giving her a pointed look and a knowing smile. Clearing her throat, Arabella stood up quickly and curtsied.
“Your Grace.”
“Lady Arabella.” The duke looked amused as he glanced over at Clara. “I wasn’t aware that we would be having someone join us.”
“Oh!” Arabella cleared her throat. “This is Miss Clara Whitby. This is the Duke of Hartwood.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Clara shot to her feet, dropping her head as she curtsied. Arabella saw a flush pass across her face. “I didn’t realize that Lady Arabella had arranged to see you.”
“But I’d like her to stay as a chaperone,” Arabella said quickly. “If that’s all right with you? It will be easier than finding a maid to stay with us.”
Hartwood raised his eyebrows, his mouth twisting into a vaguely amused smile, but he nodded. They were momentarily disturbed by Archibald coming back in with a large leather bag slung over his shoulder. As the butler placed the bag on the coffee table, Clara leaned over to Arabella.
“I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate on anything with a man like him around,” she giggled.
“Clara!”
Then Arabella caught sight of the duke looking at her. Had he heard them? Arabella felt her face burning with heat as Archibald bowed and stepped back.
“Shall I fetch some tea, my lady?”
“Yes, please. And if you can ask for some nourishment as well?”
Arabella wasn’t about to declare that she’d missed breakfast, and she hoped that her stomach wouldn’t start growling in a moment. How could she have slept in so late knowing that she had someone coming to visit her? She’d been so sluggish that she hadn’t really noticed the time.
She needed to focus more, otherwise she was going to struggle to know what was going on.
“I presume we can speak easily here?”
Hartwood glanced at Clara. Arabella nodded.
“I told Clara about our… arrangement. She’s the only one I said anything about this.”
“I see.” He looked bemused by this, but he didn’t comment further, simply settling in a chair across from them. He looked at the bag on the coffee table. “I’m surprised that it’s taken this long for you to get your father’s belongings back. Surely, this would’ve happened before his funeral.”
“I thought so, too, but the authorities had other ideas.” Arabella sat down, Clara settling on the cushions beside him. “It’s like they don’t have time for this.”
“Are you and your brother going to look at it all?”
Arabella stared at the bag. She’d told Archibald to bring it into the morning room, but now she wasn’t sure about what she wanted to do with it. She felt as if she was intruding on Pa, sifting through his pockets and finding any clue that could indicate foul play.
“What’s this?” Clara plucked out a folded piece of paper just sticking out of a side pocket. She unfolded it, frowning at the contents. “It’s the death certificate, signed by our local coroner. They’ve put the death down as drowning.”
“I’ve already seen it,” Arabella muttered. “And I still don’t believe it.”
“How so?” the duke asked.
Arabella took the certificate from Clara and held it out to the duke. “Take a look at it all. See what jumps out at you.”
Confused, the duke took the paper and read through it thoroughly. His long fingers seemed far too big for the paper, and they looked very delicate. Arabella couldn’t stop herself from staring. How could she find a man’s hands attractive? Something was very wrong with her.
This was an arrangement, nothing more. She shouldn’t be looking at him and imagining other things.
“It says that there was significant injury on the back of his head,” Hartwood said finally. He looked up. “It’s surmised that he hit his head on the wall on the way down to the water, and then he wasn’t able to swim due to his daze and the shock of cold water, and he just drowned.”
“That’s what they said at the inquest,” Arabella said. “But there is still something suspicious about it.”
“It is possible…”
“On the back of his head?” She challenged him. “I can understand if it was on the front, or even the side, of his head, but on the back suggests that he was likely pushed before he went into the water.”
His eyes widened.
“So it is possible that he was killed,” he murmured.
“I know he was. Someone pushed him, and he ended up in the river.”
“Then why hasn’t anyone come forward about it?” Clara asked. “If it was an accident, don’t you think…”
“I don’t think anyone’s going to admit they had a fight with someone who ended up dead,” Hartwood said quietly. He sat back in his chair. “Especially if the push and getting into the water are two separate events.”
Arabella frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“That there’s a chance he was knocked unconscious first and then thrown into the river. If he went in where I think he did, then it would take a tremendous push for anyone to get someone into the water, whether they’re conscious or not.”
“So he could’ve been killed?” Clara squeaked, one hand going to her throat.
“It’s a possibility.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I feel bad for doubting you, Arabella. I thought you were grieving and spouting nonsense, but seeing this, I’m beginning to think there was more going on with your father’s death.”
“I told you!” Arabella said triumphantly, although she still felt flat inside. “I said there was something suspicious.”
“Does that mean you’re still accusing me of killing him?”
Arabella couldn’t find the words. She was still sure that he had something to do with it, but to openly say she didn’t think he killed Pa was something else.
She swallowed, glancing away and twisting her fingers in her lap.
“I wish I could find out why the coroner, or even the magistrate, wouldn’t make this an open investigation.
It’s clear that foul play happened, and yet they’re prepared to let it slide. ”
“Maybe you haven’t got the right contacts,” Hartwood said.
“And you do?” Clara shot back.
He simply smiled and tilted his head to one side.
“My cousin Sebastian is very knowledgeable about all of this. He also has a connection with the magistrate.”
Arabella sat up. “Really? How is that possible?”
“He’s never told me, and I’ve never asked. Some things are best left alone.” He sat back. “I could speak to him, see if he could find anything out. If you permit me to do so?”
Arabella hesitated. She knew she needed to find out what truly happened, to help confirm that something was wrong with her father’s death. Even so, she found herself wondering if she was trying to find out too much, if she was going to end up regretting her decision.
She had to do it. Something needed to be corrected, and Arabella wasn’t about to sit back and let the world go by. She had to know.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
The duke was silent for a moment, and Arabella began to wonder if she’d pushed a little too far. She seemed to be asking a little too much, and he was just going along with it reluctantly. Yet she was sure he wanted to know what the truth was as well.
Unless he was the one who had killed Pa, and he was just sitting there enjoying the distress and wanting to toy with her. Arabella felt a shiver down her back at the thought, but she ignored it. That was too cold, too cruel. The Duke of Hartwood might be an arrogant man, but he wasn’t cruel.
“I’ll speak to him. Whether he’ll agree to it is another matter.” Then he sat forward suddenly. “Anyway, once we’ve had some tea, will you permit me to take you to a modiste I know?”
Arabella was taken by surprise at the sudden change of topic. Clara looked equally stunned, glancing at Arabella as if she thought the same thing.
“Why a modiste?” Arabella asked.
“To get you something to wear that’s more… fashionable for the current Season.” The duke coughed. “I’m afraid I noticed that your gowns are a little… old and threadbare. Same with your gloves.”
Arabella stiffened.
“They’re perfectly usable,” she said sharply. “I don’t need to change something that doesn’t need it.”
“Forgive me for saying, Arabella, but your gloves look moments away from falling apart at the seams.” He was speaking gently, but it still felt condescending.
Clara frowned. “Are you suggesting that she goes to buy something that she can’t? She isn’t able to afford…”
“I was going to buy a few things for her, actually.”
Arabella wondered if she’d heard correctly. Why would he buy anything for her? Surely, he wasn’t ashamed of what she looked like. She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you telling me that you’re embarrassed to be out with me as I am?” she demanded. “That I’m not worthy enough?”
“What? No!” The duke looked horrified that she would even suggest it. “Of course not! I’m just merely offering to help you out.”
“But why?”
Hartwood sighed and shook his head. “You are far too suspicious, Lady Arabella. Aren’t I allowed to offer a helping hand to someone?”
“But why me?” Arabella pressed.
He considered this for a moment, and then he answered.
“Because I can see us becoming friends. There’s something about you that speaks to me, and I can see the two of us getting along very well as friends. And as a friend of mine, I like to do what I can to help. That includes making sure they have the right things to live their life with.”
Arabella let the words sink in, stunned that this was happening. Did the duke actually say he wanted them to be friends? She wasn’t sure if she liked that, given the circumstances.
“I…” she began, but he cut her off.
“You can think of this as part of the deal, if you like. And, logically, if you think about it, if we were courting then I would be treating you with my own money. Then when this is over, you can keep whatever I bought for you.”
“It won’t be something I have to pay back, will it?”
He smiled, and Arabella wished that her heart didn’t stumble as much as it did. She didn’t want to find him attractive. That was not what this was about. And yet she wanted him to carry on smiling at her, to make her feel warm and happy inside.
“You won’t have to pay back anything,” he replied. “As long as you agree that I’m not the one who had anything to do with your father’s death… that will be enough for me.”
Arabella didn’t know what to say to that, and she was aware of Clara looking at her curiously. Her friend was obviously intrigued by what was going on as well, and Arabella couldn’t blame her.
This was becoming more complicated the longer it went on.