The Bachelor Trap (3 page)

Ash's words evoked in Brand's mind a vision of the Priory, his father's splendid residence, in all its luxury and grandeur. He had lived there for a time, but he had never called it
home
. Home was the house where his mother's father had raised him. And after his grandfather died, home was something he stopped thinking about.

He took a sip of brandy, then said, “I don't need the so-called finer things in life to make me happy. A comfortable fire in the grate and comfortable chairs are enough for my needs. Don't worry, Ash. I don't entertain women here, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Women?” Ash gave a hoot of laughter. “What women? You can't spare the time for them, you're so involved with your fleet of newspapers. And now that you're considering running for Parliament, you'll have less time than before. What about Julia? Where is she these days?”

“Julia,” replied Brand indifferently, “has given me my marching orders.”

Ash choked on a mouthful of brandy, sending droplets flying when his arm jerked. Not one of those drops landed on Ash's immaculately tailored coat and trousers. It was a trick Brand had envied since their school days. On the playing field, Ash always came out of a scrimmage looking as fresh as a daisy. It made him wonder how Ash had managed as a soldier.

Ash coughed to clear his throat. “So,” he said at last, “that's the way of it. Your interest in Julia waned, and like the gentleman you are, you let
her
turn
you
off. This wouldn't have anything to do with Lady Marion, would it?”

Ignoring Brand's frowning stare, Ash went on merrily, “I saw your expression tonight when Lady Marion tumbled down those stairs. I thought
you
would faint, not Lady Marion.”

“Cut the hyperbole. I was alarmed, that's all. However, I'm glad you raised the subject, because I invited you here to talk about Marion.”

When Brand paused, getting his thoughts in order, Ash got the brandy bottle from the sideboard and topped up his friend's glass. This done, he went back to his seat and waited patiently for his friend to begin.

At length, Brand said, “I think you know how close I was to Marion's aunt?”

“Edwina Gunn? I know she was your teacher until your grandfather died. I know you kept up with her all through the years.”

There was a lot more to it than that, but Brand always glossed over those turbulent years, so he merely said, “She wrote to me two weeks before she died. Unfortunately, she sent the letter to my office in Frith Street, where it got buried under a pile of letters from readers. The thing is, it did not reach me until after Edwina's death, so I had no chance to question her or clarify any of the points she had raised. And afterward, I didn't see the point in hanging on to it, so I threw it in the fire.

“It was a rambling letter about her youngest sister, Hannah. As far as anyone knows, Hannah eloped one night, about twenty years ago, with God only knows who. That's what everyone in Longbury believed, though Edwina never confirmed or denied it. I never heard her speak about Hannah, and I never asked about her. I was too young and too respectful to intrude upon a private grief.”

“Did you know Hannah?”

“No. She was a governess in Brighton and only came home for the holidays—a week or two at most—when I was away at school. I may have met her, but I don't remember.”

He became silent as his thoughts drifted back in time. Finally, he said, “Essentially, Edwina said that she suspected that someone had murdered Hannah, and that her niece, Marion, could identify the killer. One thing I do know: Hannah was visiting Edwina when Marion and her mother were there, and that's when Hannah is supposed to have disappeared.”

Ash looked thunderstruck. “Would you mind,” he said slowly, “repeating that?”

Brand did, amplifying his explanation. “In her letter, Edwina wrote that Hannah quarreled with her sisters one night and left the cottage vowing never to return. And no, Edwina did not tell me what the quarrel was about.”

He sipped from his glass as he marshaled his thoughts. “As far as I know, Edwina never reported her sister as missing, so that leads me to suspect that she believed Hannah had run off, possibly with some man. Anyway, the years passed, and it was only recently that someone mentioned to Edwina that Marion was roaming the grounds the same night that Hannah disappeared. She didn't say who.”

“How could they be sure it was the same night?”

“Edwina didn't say. However it was, this person put the thought in her mind that Hannah had met with foul play and Marion might well be a witness to it. You have to understand that Edwina's cottage is surrounded by woods and is close to the Priory and its extensive buildings and grounds. If Hannah was murdered, there were plenty of places to hide her body.”

“That's a bit of a leap, isn't it? To go for twenty years, believing that your sister had run off, then suddenly decide that maybe she was murdered? It sounds to me that this is someone's idea of a joke, else why not come forward when Hannah disappeared?”

“You're not saying anything that I didn't say to myself when I read the letter. However, I was aware of another factor that added to my skepticism.” He took a swallow of brandy, then went on, “When I was in Longbury for the funeral, I heard rumors. Edwina, it seems, had not been herself for some weeks. She was becoming forgetful and slipping into the past, becoming more and more childlike. You see what I was thinking?”

“That she was becoming senile.” Ash sighed. “What did she want you to do?”

“To visit her so that she could talk to me face-to-face.” He added with a touch of bitterness, “As I said, by the time I got the letter, it was too late. Anyway, I didn't receive the letter until long after I'd heard the rumors so I didn't take it seriously, or push myself to solve a mystery that was twenty years old. Marion, to my knowledge, was fixed in the Lake District. I thought of writing to her, but was loath to reveal that her aunt's mind was affected. So I did nothing.”

“Until Lady Marion and her sisters arrived on your doorstep?”

Brand nodded, stretched out his long legs in front of the fire that was now blazing merrily, and slumped comfortably in his chair. “I didn't want to upset Marion or alarm her by telling her about Edwina's letter—what would be the point if it was all a figment of an old woman's imagination?—so I cultivated her acquaintance and tried to draw her out.” He dragged his gaze from the blazing coals in the grate and looked directly at Ash. “She doesn't know anything. In fact, she hardly remembers Longbury. She remembers her aunts Edwina and Hannah, but not that Hannah disappeared while she was there. When I asked her where Hannah was now, all she could tell me was that Hannah had died young.”

Ash sneered. “You mean Hannah's sisters tried to hide her shame by fabricating an early death? I'll wager she did elope with a married man and her family never forgave her for it. Typical!”

Brand shrugged. “I thought that I had fulfilled my obligation to Edwina and could leave it at that, but that was before Marion was shoved down those stairs tonight. And a week ago, she was attacked and robbed by a footpad in Vauxhall Gardens. Oh, not that Marion told me. I got that from Phoebe.”

“Coincidences,” scoffed Ash, “that could happen to anyone.”

“Thousands would agree with you,” responded Brand, “but I'm a newspaperman. I have an instinct about these things. I think that Marion is in some kind of trouble. What I don't know yet is whether it's related to Longbury or to the Lake District.”

He could almost hear Ash's quick mind adding things up and filling in the blanks.

Finally, Ash chuckled. “And I say you're not telling me everything. Either Lady Marion has confided in you, or there has been a third incident that for some reason you don't wish to mention.”

“You're wrong on both counts.” Brand drained his glass and set it aside. “I repeat: I'm relying on instinct.”

He was remembering the scared look in her eyes when he'd bent over her at the foot of the stairs, and later, the involuntary answer to his question as she came to herself in his carriage:
David
.

He hoped her troubles originated in the Lake District, because if Longbury was the source, it meant that he should have taken Edwina's letter seriously. It meant that he should not have accepted that her death was an accident so readily. It meant that if Marion returned to Longbury, she could be putting herself in danger.

It all seemed so far-fetched that, even now, he wasn't quite ready to believe it.

“At any rate,” he said finally, “I've decided to do what Edwina wanted me to do, and that is solve the mystery of what happened to Hannah all those years ago.”

“Do you think that's wise? You may stir up a hornet's nest.”

“As I am well aware, but I intend to keep a close eye on Marion.”

He looked up to find Ash staring at him speculatively.

“I was right!” said Ash. “You
are
taken with her! I should have known when you kept referring to her as Marion and not Lady Marion. Is that what you call her to her face?”

When Brand looked at him blankly, Ash grinned. “You're playing a dangerous game, my friend.”

Brand tried, without success, to stare down the amusement in Ash's eyes. “I feel responsible for her.”

Half joking, half in earnest, Ash went on, “Oh, that's how it starts, and before you know it, you get caught in the bachelor trap. Think of Jack.”

Jack was a mutual friend and once, like them, a confirmed bachelor, but now happily married to the love of his life.

Ash got up. “A word of advice? Watch out for Mrs. Milford. The fair Julia may have the face of a goddess but she has the disposition of a demon. She won't take kindly to another female poaching on her preserves.”

“I told you,” retorted Brand, “she was the one who ended the affair.”

“You don't think that matters to a woman like Julia? I'm surprised she hasn't come after you already with her fangs bared.”

“She's in Paris.”

“That explains it. She'll be back soon enough when she hears that another lady has displaced her in your affections.”

“Will you sit down?” roared Brand. “And have done with your teasing! I didn't invite you here to play games. I invited you here because you're my friend and I need your help.”

That got Ash's attention. He slowly sank into his chair. “Why do you need my help?”

“Haven't I made myself clear? I wouldn't be surprised if there
is
a third incident—you know, another of those coincidences that can happen to anyone? However, I can't be everywhere at once. I've agreed to seek my party's nomination for the by-election coming up. My time will be taken up with election business. Then there are my newspapers to consider. I have to instruct my second-in-command on what needs to be done in my absence.”

“It sounds to me,” said Ash, “that you have too many irons in the fire.”

“Which is why I need your help.”

“I'm listening.”

Brand exhaled a long, slow breath. He said quietly, “I need someone to keep a close eye on Marion, at least until she gets settled in Longbury. Will you do it?”

Ash grinned. “My pleasure, old friend, my pleasure.”

After seeing Ash out, Brand returned to his parlor where his manservant was clearing up. Manley was a grizzled, hefty gentleman in his early fifties, a former trooper in a cavalry regiment, who had fallen on hard times. He was a genius with horses but had been let go by his last employer for insubordination. In fact, he'd been let go by several employers for insubordination. There was no doubt about it, Manley did not know his place, but he'd had the good fortune to find the one employer who admired him for it.

Unfortunately, his talents were wasted because Brand did not keep a stable. He didn't see the necessity for it, but hired whatever he needed at the livery stable off Pall Mall. All that was about to change.

“Manley,” he said, “we'll be going to Longbury in the next week or two. I have a stable there lying empty. Tomorrow, you and I are going to Tattersall's to look over the horseflesh and make a few purchases. I shall also require the services of coachmen, and the odd stableboy. I'd be obliged if you would take care of that for me. And Manley, only the best will do.”

Apart from a slight working of his jaw, Manley showed no expression. “I think I can manage that, Mr. Hamilton,” he said.

“Good. Oh, and I'll need household servants, too.”

“Leave it to me, sir.”

That obsequious
sir
told Brand just how pleased Manley was about setting up the stable in Longbury.

He turned away with a smile, but his smile faded when he noticed that the stuffing in one of the leather armchairs was poking through a seam. These chairs had once belonged to his grandfather. Ash would say that it was time to get rid of them, that they'd outlived their usefulness.