A Midsummer Bride (26 page)

Harriet and Penelope managed to talk the stable master into saddling two horses for them to take a ride. It helped they now had more horses than stalls, so an offer to exercise two was a welcome one.

At first it was relatively easy. A casual question regarding the direction the men had taken led them down the lane to the west. After that, Harriet began to track.

“How do you know what you are doing?” asked Penelope from horseback as Harriet inspected the ground.

“It is actually not difficult,” said Harriet. “Thornton’s horse is a fine one and wears a particular shoe, one I noted before when we went riding. The ground is soft and the shoe makes a distinct indentation, see?” She pointed out the track to Penelope.

“Oh. I do see, actually. But how did you learn to do this?”

Harriet shrugged. “I have four older brothers. We live outside town with the ocean on one side and the great woods on the other. Dinner often meant shooting it oneself. What you English do for sport, we do for supper. I accompanied my brothers many times.”

They followed the trail until they found the men’s horses in a stable next to an inn. They entered the common room and were about to ask for assistance when the raised voice of the duc could be heard.

“I do believe we will find the men upstairs,” said Penelope.

Harriet led the way, and they paused just outside the open door. Inside they could hear the duc, Marchford, Thornton, and an unknown man. It was clear Marchford and Thornton were in trouble if they could not find evidence to the duc’s guilt.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Harriet strolled into the room with admirable confidence, as if she was entering a drawing room.

The men were notably surprised and took their bows. Harriet and Penelope curtsied in return. Thornton glared at her, his jaw set. He was not pleased to see her. At all.

“My dear ladies,” said Marchford in a tone that implied anything but endearment. “Please go to the common room and wait for us so we may escort you home.”

Harriet surveyed the room. They needed proof and she needed to help. She knew d’Argon was guilty; she simply knew it to be true. She felt the duc’s eyes on her but refused to look at him. He had made a fool of her. A memory she could easily do without.

“The common room is too stuffy, too… common,” said Penelope. She was hedging for time, but Harriet knew they would soon be expelled from the room. They must do something, and fast.

Harriet visually searched the room, which appeared to have been torn apart. The mattress was tossed in a heap, the trunk stood on end, the duc’s clothes were strewn about. The trunk, at this angle, looked a little odd. Harriet stepped further into the room and found the bottom of the inside of the trunk was higher than the outside.

“This trunk is oddly shaped, do you not think?” she asked.

Thornton glared at her then glanced at the trunk, paused, then walked around it to get a good look. “Aye, verra suspicious.” Thornton placed the trunk on the bed and drew a long knife from his boot. He held the knife menacingly over the trunk and leveled a glare at the duc. “Anything ye care to say?”

Harriet had the satisfaction of seeing the duc squirm. Thornton stabbed at the bottom of the trunk a few times, then a few times more than he had to for good measure.

He tore open the splintered wood and found a leather bag. He held it up and dumped it without ceremony on the bed. The pearls slid out, along with a ruby necklace, several watch fobs, and a diamond encrusted snuffbox. Never had Harriet been so glad to see something sparkle. From the looks of relief on the faces of Thornton and Marchford, she knew they were appreciative as well.

“Well now,” said the unknown man in a blue cloak, who must have represented the law here in the Highlands. “How would ye like to explain this?” he asked d’Argon.

The duc folded his arms across his chest. “I have no idea. I can only say that someone has placed those items there without my knowledge.”

“Tell me how you knew about the pearls!” demanded Marchford. “Someone must have told you. You had not even arrived when my grandmother lost them.”

“Lost the fake ones you mean,” said d’Argon with a sneer. “Fake ones that she presented as real. You have the pearls now. Let me be or else I will be required to tell the whole story of what she did. She will be ruined and you know it!”

Marchford lunged at the man, and Thornton again stopped him. “Dinna let him win,” he said in a low voice. “The likes o’ him is no’ worth it.”

Marchford took a deep breath, straightened his cravat, and pulled down his waistcoat. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Gentlemen,” said the magistrate. “Let me remind ye that we are in the presence of ladies.” He once again bowed to Harriet and Penelope. “Thank ye, ladies, for yer service here. I’ve seen enough. I’ve got me many a trunk, but none what’s got a false bottom like that. Only thieves would need such a thing if ye ask me. And now we have these jewels, which ye admit are not yers and were found in a place in yer trunk only ye would know. I am hereby placing ye under arrest for theft.”

“No! They just do not want you to know about the pearls. Call this off or I’ll tell him about the pearls!” screeched the duc.

“No more o’ yer nonsense. Ye are coming wi’ me,” said the magistrate.

“Still have the pit for thieves?” asked Thornton.

“Aye, but we shoud’na put quality in the pit,” objected the magistrate.

“He is hardly that,” stated Marchford.

“Well then, the pit it is!”

“No! Not the pit!” The Frenchman’s eyes were wide.

“Have ye anything to tell us? Anything about who helped ye?” asked Thornton.

“If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“No, but I’ll try to convince my friend not to throw ye in the pit,” said Thornton.

“
Oui
, I will tell you.”

Thornton asked politely if the innkeeper could provide the magistrate and the ladies with a light repast while he and Marchford interviewed the suspect. The magistrate was more than willing; the ladies, however, refused to leave.

“I have been accused of everything this man is guilty of doing,” said Harriet. “I deserve to know the truth.” She folded her arms across her chest, determined to leave only if forcibly removed. In the end, the innkeeper left with the magistrate and the door was closed, leaving the four of them to interview the suspect.

“Now,” said Marchford. “Time to tell all.”

“I do not know much,” said d’Argon, sitting on a chair.

“Ye best hope ye ken something,” commented Thornton, standing at the window. “Where ye sleep tonight depends on it.”

The Duc d’Argon took a deep breath. “I had barely arrived at the house when I received a note, written in a neat hand in fluent French. The missive said I had a friend who understood my financial woes. The note asked me to do a few small things in return for great reward.”

“Who wrote you?” asked Marchford.

“I do not know. Truly, I do not.”

“So you thought you would join a traitor?” Marchford asked.

“I have no political leanings. The only thing concerning me is my debt. I cannot return to France. It would be fatal for me. At first it was easy. I received a message that told me there would be pearls lying out in Her Grace’s room.”

“But why did you take the others from Langley’s room as well?”

The duc shrugged. “You never know when it could become useful.”

“You planned blackmail!” accused Penelope.

The duc merely shrugged.

“Tell me what else these mysterious messages told you to do.” Marchford’s voice was calm, but his fists were balled at his sides.

“All I was supposed to do was transport some papers.”

“Papers? What papers?” Marchford’s eyes narrowed.

“It appeared to be talk of military plans, invasions, and such.”

Marchford shook his head. “I asked specifically that no one take any notes regarding our planning meetings. Someone did not listen. Where did these plans go?”

“I took them to town. I was supposed to send them special delivery to the French embassy, but it was cheaper to send them by post.”

“When did you send these things?” asked Marchford.

“I sent the first a few days ago, and the second I sent yesterday. Although the mail does not leave every day from the town, so small, so provincial it is here, so I think both packets left this morning.”

“And who gave ye these papers?” asked Thornton.

The Duc d’Argon gave a slippery smile. “You did.”

***

Harriet, Thornton, Marchford, and Penelope rode back to Thornton Hall in silence, d’Argon’s accusation still ringing in their ears. The Frenchman claimed he had taken the papers from Thornton’s own room, stashed under his mattress. Harriet did not know why he would claim the papers were there, but she knew Thornton could not be at fault. As to the fire, the Frenchman denied all knowledge.

“I dinna ken anything about the papers,” Thornton finally said.

“Of course not,” said Marchford, but he did not look at him. The poison of doubt had seeped into the fabric of their friendship, building walls and barriers between them.

The trail narrowed, allowing only two horses to ride across. Marchford and Penelope took the lead with Harriet and Thornton trailing behind.

“You were right about d’Argon,” said Harriet when they were far enough behind to be out of earshot. “I should have listened to you.”

Thornton shook his head. “Even I woud’na have predicted he was a thief and a traitor. I had no’ thought it possible for me to think less o’ him.” Thornton was speaking to her, but in his reserved manner, his eyes on the road ahead.

“We were never engaged.” It was important to Harriet to correct any misunderstanding about this. “He had asked me to form an alliance based on science. He promised to gain entry for me at the Royal Academy of Science. He said he would move with me to America.” She tried to make him understand.

“He would have promised anything for the fifty thousand he thought he would receive.”

“Yes, you are quite right. I feel rather foolish now to be so taken in. If he had sworn his undying affection, I would have seen what he was. But he appealed to my love for science.”

“Slippery fellow.”

“I never had any feelings for him,” Harriet added.

Thornton slowed his mount even more and she did the same. Marchford and Penelope were still in sight, but well out of hearing range. “I fear this is my fault for causing ye grief. I take the blame.”

“Nonsense! Had I taken your advice, I would not have gotten so close to him. And you have never caused me a moment’s grief. Except,” she amended to be honest, “when we have been apart.”

“I am truly sorry for ever causing ye pain.” The mournful truth in Thornton’s gray eyes was almost painful to see. This was the truth. Their time together was swiftly coming to an end. They would be apart forever.

“I am so sorry for your loss in the fire,” whispered Harriet, reaching out to him. “Please know that it was not my equipment that started it.”

He reached out and grasped her hand, warm even through the gloves they both wore. “Nay, o’ course not. I also am sorry for the loss of yer equipment.”

“Thank you,” murmured Harriet, relieved to find he did not blame her.

Thornton gently squeezed her hand. “I want ye to know I regret nothing in our time together, except anything that has caused ye pain. Ye have shown me a kindness, an affection, and a playful joy I have never known. I will remember ye always.”

“You will always be in my heart.” Harriet blinked back tears.

“Miss Redgrave?” called Penelope, shocking Harriet out of the trance of Thornton’s gaze. Harriet realized they had brought their mounts to a stop and were holding hands in the middle of the road. They dropped their hands.

Harriet and Thornton urged their mounts forward to catch up with Marchford and Penelope.

“We have work to do,” said Marchford, his face grim.

“Work?” asked Harriet.

“We have a spy to catch.”

They were exhausted by the time they returned. Not having slept the night before and very little the night before that, Thornton harbored hopes of finding his bedchamber, preferably with Harriet. His sleep-deprived brain had no sense of reason or propriety.

A small group of discontented matrons in the foyer put an end to this line of thought.

“I wish to leave this place tonight!” demanded Mrs. Crawley. “I cannot stand to spend one more night with that arsonist!” She glared at Harriet.

“You should make her leave,” said another matron. “How can we sleep at night with her running free?” She pointed at Harriet in a rude manner.

The guests who had gathered in the drawing room before dinner began to pour into the entryway, hearing that Thornton and Marchford had returned.

“I have never been so scared in all my life,” said a thin matron. “First the fire, then the thefts. I am afraid we shall be murdered in our beds!”

“I understand your concerns,” said Marchford with authority. “And I assure you we are doing all we can to protect your safety and find the culprit.”

“But we already know who is to blame,” said Priscilla. “It was that Harriet creature who set the fire and then stole from us all after she lost her fortune. Why she is still allowed to stay under the roof is beyond me.”

The crowd tittered their agreement in a manner that made Thornton’s skin crawl. How quick they were to condemn. Harriet stood tall before the crowd, taking their insults with a calm he could only respect.

“Miss Redgrave is no’ responsible for the fire,” said Thornton. “Ye would please me all by not bandying about false accusations.”

“We have good news. The thief has been discovered,” said Marchford. “It was the duc d’Argon who confessed to the thefts.”

“That is a scandalous thing to say,” said the Comtesse de Marseille.

“I fear it is the truth. And if I am no’ mistaken, these are yer rubies.” Thornton opened the pouch and pulled out the rubies to the gasps of the crowd. “Sir Antony, I believe this is your snuffbox.”

“Why indeed it is. Good show!”

Thornton returned the items but still wondered what to say about the fire. They had solved one mystery, but the spy was still someone among the crowd. But who?

“My dear friends.” Lady Thornton appeared on the stairs dressed in exquisite blue silk and a silver tiara. His mother looked stunning and happy, which considering the circumstances was a surprise. “I am so pleased we have a resolution to that unpleasantness. Tonight is Midsummer’s Night and we have arranged for a ball!”

The crowd, angry and scared only a moment before, now chattered to each other in a happy tone.

“A wonderful idea,” cried Sir Antony. “I shall be bold and claim the first dance with our hostess!”

Lady Thornton blushed. Blushed. Thornton rubbed his eyes. He had been awake too long. Must be affecting his vision. He looked more carefully at his mother and realized she was not wearing a silver tiara but a crown.

“Mother,” he asked quietly. “Are ye wearing the crown o’ Maid Marion?”

His mother smiled in a manner most unusual. “I thought it time I wear it.” She flitted off to converse with her friends in a most cheerful manner.

Thornton was too tired to make sense of it. He nodded to Harriet, and she and Penelope quietly made their way upstairs to change for dinner. He dared not do anything more.

The majority of the guests were appeased, but Mr. Neville approached them before they could make their escape. “I have serious concerns regarding your conduct, Your Grace.” He spoke the title with contempt. “I understand the book of codes has gone missing. Who knows what the enemy will do with them. You assured me it would be safe. I fear this must go into my report to the Home Office.”

“Yes, of course, you must do what you think best,” said Marchford with complete calm.

Mr. Neville stalked off. Marchford nodded to Thornton, and they walked into the library.

“Your mother is in good spirits,” said Marchford, reaching for a sip of something.

“Surprising for a woman who has just lost her home. Maybe she finally cracked.” Thornton lay out on the settee, too tired to even sit up.

“Whatever her motivations, she did help us out of a tight spot.”

“What o’ Neville?” asked Thornton.

“He will make as much trouble as he can. And when he finds out about the plans that were smuggled out, it will be worse. I only wish we could intercede the post. If it left today, there may still be a chance to beat it to the French embassy, but none of my horses could do the job.”

Thornton sat up with a start. “But mine could.”

“Surely they could not make it all the way to London.”

“No, but I have sold horses across the country, to Langley, to Sir Antony, and others. If we strung them together…”

“Yes! Let’s do it.”

“I shall write a letter for the messenger,” said Thornton, jumping up.

“No, let me do that,” said Marchford, sitting down at the writing desk.

“Are ye no’ sure ye can trust me?” asked Thornton quietly.

“I trust no one.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not be. If you could choose a horse and a messenger, I would be grateful.”

Thornton gave a bow and left the room. There was nothing he could do to clear his name… except find the true traitor.

***

“Such excitement,” said Harriet as she and Penelope walked into her room.

“At least we have found the thief,” said Penelope.

“But we still have not found the spy, and I am still being blamed for the fire.” Though now that Harriet was convinced Thornton did not hold her responsible, she felt immensely better.

“We do still need to find our arsonist,” agreed Penelope.

“Yes, though I do not look forward to attending a ball. I do not think I would be well received.”

“Perhaps not. No one would blame you if you stayed in your room. Though I can tell you the duchess would say you would only give credence to the rumors.”

“Maybe I will ask him what to do,” murmured Harriet.

“Your grandfather?” asked Penelope.

“No, Thornton,” said Harriet without thinking.

Penelope gave Harriet a half smile. “Interesting you should seek his opinion.”

Harriet realized she had spoken too candidly. She flopped down on the bed. “It does not matter what I might feel for him. It will not change the fact that his life is here and my parents are in America. I could never leave them.”

“Is that not what your mother did when she eloped with an American sea captain?” asked Penelope.

Harriet opened her mouth for a retort, but then closed it again. Penelope was right. Insight suddenly dawned on her and she sat up suddenly. Her mother had left everything to be with the man she loved. Surely she would understand if Harriet did the same.

“You are right, she did marry for love.” A smile flashed on Harriet’s face but disappeared just as quickly. “But after everything that has happened, he must be consumed with saving his estate.”

“Forgive me, but you are in a position to help him with that.”

Harriet shook her head. “He would never accept it. Never. As long as I have this dowry, Lord Thornton will never propose.”

Penelope shrugged. “Rumor has it you lost your dowry.” Before Harriet could reply, Penelope continued, “Let us dress for dinner—that is, if you are coming.”

Harriet stood tall. “Yes, of course. I am going to catch this spy for Thornton. I may not be able to solve all his problems, but at least I can help him do that much.”

Harriet and Penelope quickly dressed and walked down the side staircase to avoid some of the more malicious comments from the guests. They found Marchford in the library, writing letters by the light of a single candle.

“Good evening,” said Marchford, standing as they entered.

“Please continue what you were doing,” said Penelope.

Marchford did so, mumbling about losing the light.

“The horse and rider are ready,” said Thornton, walking in the room with a thin messenger. He spoke to Marchford but was looking at Harriet.

Marchford gave the letters and the instructions to the messenger, who left at once. Marchford sat back down at the table as the candle guttered out, throwing the room into darkness.

“I’ll get a light,” said Thornton, feeling his way out of the room.

“Good heavens,” exclaimed Penelope. “What is that?” The table emanated a greenish glow.

“Oh. Sorry,” said Harriet. As if things weren’t bad enough, now everyone was going to know she was conducting experiments in the library. “I was doing some experiments in luminescence. I fear I may have left some traces of the phosphorous behind.”

“My goodness, you really do have some interesting experiments,” said Penelope. “Would everything that touched the table be glowing too?”

“Most likely.”

“Good to know my poor book is somewhere glowing for me,” sighed Penelope.

“What book?” asked Harriet.

“I had it here. It was stolen. We think by the person who also set the fires.”

“Even I am glowing,” said Marchford, looking at the sleeves of his jacket that had touched the table.

“As would be the thief,” said Harriet.

Everyone was quiet.

“Here we are,” said Thornton, walking back into the room with a lantern.

“Forgive me, my friend. But where is the coat you were wearing yesterday?” asked Marchford.

“Still wearing it,” said Thornton. “Long day.”

“Douse the light,” said Marchford.

“What?”

“Douse the light!”

Thornton did as he was requested.

“You are not glowing!” cried Harriet. “I knew you would not be glowing.”

“Why would I be glowing?” asked Thornton, puzzled.

“Could you get a light now?” asked Penelope.

“First lit then out, now lit again,” muttered Thornton and he went out to light the lantern again. “Now tell me what this is about,” he said, coming back in the room.

“The book that was stolen was on the desk. You remember my experiment?” asked Harriet.

“The green glow?”

“Exactly! It is still glowing. So the thief would also be glowing.”

“I imagine he would have changed clothes, unlike me.”

“Not the gloves,” said Harriet. “If the thief was wearing gloves, as most people were last night.”

“I have a plan.” Thornton looked at the assembled conspirators and smiled.