Chapter Seventeen
The burly men were holding the poor butler by his arms so his feet couldn’t reach the ground, and after them came several Dellborough and Teign footmen, shoving and pushing at one another.
Finally, the instigator of this riot—Teign himself, with Farnham at his elbow—strode into the room, Teign’s voice thundering, “I shall see Dellborough now, and those scoundrelly sons of mine. Dellborough, how dare you harbor these traitors!”
The Duke of Dellborough had risen to his feet. “Good evening, Lord Teign.” He looked down the long table to where his wife sat at the end. “My dear, are we harboring traitors?”
The duchess remained seated, regarding Teign with the expression of a householder who has found a cockroach in the flour bin. “Lord Teign,” she said. “What is the meaning of this unseemly and violent invasion of our home?”
The marquess glared at her, looked around at the luminaries gathered at the table, and made a visible effort to rein in his temper.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” he snapped, with a perfunctory nod in place of a bow.
“I had to see your husband, to tell him not to support my sons in their rebellion. I shall just be taking them with me, and leave you to get on with your dinner.”
“Lord Kemble?” said the duchess. “Do you wish to go with your father?”
“I do not,” Allan replied, managing to keep his voice calm, despite the anger and grief he always felt in his father’s presence.
“And what of you other brothers?” said the duchess, managing to speak over Teign’s angry retort.
All seven Sheppard brothers replied. Whether it was a “no”, an “I do not”, or “not likely”, their answers amounted to the same.
“You have your answer, Lord Teign,” said Her Grace of Dellborough. “If you wish to pursue any complaint you have against my husband, please have your secretary arrange an appointment with Dellborough’s secretary.”
Teign sneered. “What kind of a man are you, Dellborough? Letting a female speak for you?”
The duke chuckled. “A wise and happy one,” he replied. He exchanged a warm glance with his duchess. What an inspiration! Thirty years or more, and their love for one another was palpable.
“A man who bows to a woman is no man at all,” Teign announced. He added, “A woman should know her place—silent, obedient, and in a man’s bed. If she forgets it, she should be beaten.”
Good work, you old sinner. You have now alienated all the great ladies Dellborough and his wife had invited to dinner and most of the men.
Dellborough lifted an eyebrow at his wife, and she commented, “An interesting if primitive view. Tell me? How has it contributed to your domestic and marital happiness?”
The duke smirked.
Teign’s sneer deepened, and he turned on his footmen. “Seize my sons, you fools. Have you forgotten what we came for?”
Allan clenched his fist and prepared to leap to his feet.
“The marksmen in the minstrels’ gallery will shoot anyone who attempts to carry out that order,” Dellborough drawled. “Up to and including Lord Teign.”
Startled, Allan looked up. Sure enough, from the shadowy depths of the minstrel’s gallery, several rifle barrels pointed at Teign’s footmen, who were backing away despite the imprecations of their master.
Dellborough picked up his wine glass and leaned back in his seat.
“My dear guests, I apologize in advance for the spilling of blood, but better to execute these invaders cleanly than to allow brawling in my wife’s dining room.
Teign, your language, sir! Please do remember that ladies are present. ” His drawl edged into insolence.
From a lifetime of observing the marquess, Allan could tell he was on the point of losing his temper. Could he be pushed over? He stood.
“You have no legal authority over us, Lord Teign. Your behavior toward us, our mothers, and our wives has destroyed any moral or filial responsibilities we might have toward you. None of us will ever live under your roof again, nor shall we obey your dictates. If you or your henchmen attempt to harm any of us, we shall seek recourse through the king’s law. God save the King.”
He sat down after the speech. His father would see it as further insolence, but truly it was because his knees were weak, as they always were, whenever he defied the old devil.
“And so say I,” said Baldwin.
“And I,” Cornelius echoed.
All of them spoke, one after another, in age order as if they had rehearsed it, while Teign exploded even more spectacularly than Allan had expected.
Specks of foam flew from his lips as he ranted, then an apparent calm suddenly descended.
This was the point at which he was most dangerous.
Only by the most rigid self-control did Allan keep from flinching away from whatever torture Teign deemed a suitable punishment, and from the corner of his eye, he observed the same strain in his brothers.
In a low, grating voice, the marquess snarled, “You think you are so smart, Kemble. You think you’ve sent that little brat Jerome out of my reach.
But think again. I have him, and his brother.
If you don’t return… if any one of you refuses to return, I’ll start by breaking Jerome’s other leg.
Then I’ll break his hands—he fancies himself on the piano, the useless molly boy.
What sort of music can he make if I destroy his hands?
I’ll leave him one hand to write to you, shall I?
To beg you to come home. Did you think I’d let you send him to the Americas? ”
Kemble managed not to sigh his relief. “Isaac and Jerome sailed yesterday on the Beatitude, an American tea clipper. You have no authority over American ships.”
With a curled lip, Teign took the bait. “Farnham caught them on the road to Liverpool. Did you think he wouldn’t? And even if they had reached the ship, they could not have escaped. Farnham ordered the harbor closed down on my authority. Nothing was able to sail.”
Honestly, the marquess is slipping. Farnham had been present in London yesterday and again today. Did the marquess think he had the power of translocation?
“I shall do my best to free my brothers,” he said. “I shall not give you any more hostages. The answer is still no.”
Teign wasn’t expecting that answer. He gaped. And before he could gather himself, Dellborough spoke again. “You have your answer, Lord Teign. You and your bullies are not welcome in my home. Leave now, or be carried to the front door and tossed into the street.”
After a look up at the minstrel’s gallery and another look at the scores of footmen who had silently filed into the dining room, the marquess glared at him. “I shall be speaking to the king about your support for my rebellious sons,” he threatened.
“I shall also be speaking to the king,” Dellborough replied, calmly.
The marquess cast a fulminating glance around the room and then stormed out, his minions trailing behind him.
“Furness,” said Dellborough to the butler. “That man is not permitted in any of my houses or on my estates. Pass the word. If refusal does not work, you are authorized to use force, and I shall defend you from any repercussions.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” said his wife. “My dear guests, after that interlude, I do not feel I can do justice to this course. May I suggest we go immediately to the drawing room? I shall have tea and sweets served, and port or brandy for those who prefer, and we can ask our questions of Lord Kemble and his brothers.”
*
Lord Teign could not have been more helpful to Allan and his brothers if Mel had written his script.
The questions in the drawing room didn’t bother with testing the brothers’ truthfulness.
Having observed the evidence of Teign’s brutal bullying with their own eyes and ears, they questioned details, and considered possible ways to bring the man to book.
Before any of that, though, they responded to Teign’s threats against Jerome. “Should we take constables to search his townhouse for the missing brothers?” one of them asked. “We can probably obtain a warrant based on who we are and what we have heard.”
Another shook his head. “He could have them anywhere. And the man is a lunatic. If we invade his house, he might hurt one or both of the young men.”
“We do not have to be concerned about Isaac and Jerome,” Allan told them.
“They did not go to Liverpool. At the time their ship sailed, the marquess thought we were all still locked up in the tower. We did not go out in public until they were safely on their way to somewhere that is not the Americas. We spread the news about Liverpool, hoping the marquess would hear and take the bait.”
The chuckles and comments signaled that those present approved.
In light of that news, once they reached the point of discussing how to stop Teign, some were in favor of arresting him immediately, for undue violence against his sons. Others urged caution.
“There will be some,” one of the earls said, “who would say the law should not interfere. A man is master of his own house, and has the right to discipline his wives, children, and servants.”
“Discipline, yes,” Nottwick growled. “Abuse, no.”
“I quite agree,” said the earl. “Proving abuse, especially now the bruises have faded, so to speak, is the issue. Remember, this is a marquess we are talking about. A sometime friend of the king, too. No, to convict the man—even to arrest him—we need more. Something that cannot be ignored. I do not suppose he has plotted against Crown and country, has he? Even the king won’t brush over that. ”
“We have been thinking along the same lines,” Allan explained.
“Mrs. Blackmore suggested it.” He inclined his head to Mel and went on, “Mrs. Blackmore believes that his violence and sense of self-entitlement will have led him to abuses of power against others, not only his wife and family—and we have found this to be true. Mrs. Blackmore, you were present during the interviews this afternoon and our discussions afterward. Would you like to summarize for our friends?”
“One moment,” said someone. “What is Mrs. Blackmore’s interest in Teign’s crimes? What is her place here?”
Mel was taken aback by the question, and before she could marshal her thoughts to make an answer, Allan was speaking for her.
“Mrs. Blackmore came to us while investigating the disappearance of her cousin, Lady Cornelius Sheppard. We were initially part of Mrs. Blackmore’s group of suspects, but became her allies and then friends.
I am currently courting Mrs. Blackmore in the hopes she will become my wife.
Her interest in Teign’s crimes is familial and personal. Her place here is with me.”
Courting? His wife? Why was Allan making such an extravagant claim? Was it just to establish Mel’s place within this lofty group? It must be. She had no illusion that she was important to him beyond the needs of the moment.
The Duchess of Kempbury was speaking. “I have known Melody Blackmore for some years. I consider her a friend, and would trust her with my life. She has successfully solved many puzzles for those who needed the discreet assistance of a person of integrity. Melody, I am glad you are here.”
Kempbury took his cue from his wife. “Mrs. Blackmore, can you explain what interviews Kemble means, your discoveries, and your conclusions?”
Mel took a deep breath and began. “Today, eight servants from Teign’s house came to speak to Lord Kemble. They wanted to tell him that, for a decade or more, Teign has purchased women, and hidden them in guarded chambers of his house.”
“The servants have seen these women?” Kempbury protested. “Then why have they not reported it to the authorities?”
“They are servants, and he is a marquess,” Mel pointed out, resisting the urge to sigh at Kempbury’s naive expectation that the magistrates and their constables would make the slightest push to investigate a servant’s claim against their master.
The Duchess of Kempbury explained it in clear terms. “They were afraid no one would listen to them, and that placing information would get them killed.”
“Oh. I see,” said her husband. “Very well, Mrs. Blackmore. I apologize for the interruption.”
“In fact,” Mel admitted, “The servants have seldom seen the women. However, for years, they have been expected to feed and clean up after men who seem to have no other task except to linger in one part of the mansion.
“It was the tower for a while, then an isolated wing of the house, and now it is the cellars. They provide more food than even hungry men can eat, and must clean twice as many rooms with beds as there are men.”
Twenty or more men at present, the cook had told them. She could not be certain of the exact numbers, for they kept to themselves. But since the brothers had escaped the tower, she and the other servants who supported her had been counting those they saw when they cleaned or delivered food.
Mel continued, “The occasional glimpse of women who should not be there, being led from the guarded areas to the marquess’s bedchamber has just confirmed their suspicions.”
“The women must be aging after more than ten years,” Dellborough commented.
“He replaces them regularly,” Mel explained.
“What does that mean, ‘replaces them’?” the Duchess of Dellborough asked, leaning forward. “Could we perhaps ask the retired women to tell what happened to them at Teign’s hands?”
Mel shook her head. “According to what the servants have overheard, most women die within a few months. They are buried in the cellars. The survivors are sold to brothels when the marquess and his confederates have too many new women for the available space.” After their warders have had the use of them.
“If we can prove any of this,” said Kempbury, “we can demand that the king take action. But how?”
“We have the beginnings of an idea,” said Baldwin. “We think we need to rescue the women, and we need to do it as secretly as possible, and with highly reputable witnesses, so that Teign is facing the accusations of his peers.”
“The key to our plan is that Teign is currently keeping his victims in the cellars,” Allan added. “And we have a hidden way into the cellars.