The Theft of a Dukedom (13 page)

Thomas had been walking for an hour and he
could see Middleton just ahead. He only needed to walk
into the village. He had debated Kitty and Richard’s
relationship, hoping that Richard would be able to cope
with the Stafford wildness, which brought his thoughts
to Charles and his delight at his choice of a bride, he
hoped that Charles wouldn’t become careless with her,
she was far too pretty to be ground under foot, as Robin
would have done.
I must talk to Charles.
He thought,
before he commits the ultimate sin and just fucks his
new wife.
He shook his head.
Maybe he’ll be aware of it
himself.
The horse whinnied, bringing his attention to
the here and now.

‘Nearly there girl.’ He muttered to the horse
soothingly as he stroked her nose. He got to the bridge
and could see a young boy fishing, and as he strolled out
into the middle he suddenly felt horrific pain in his chest
and stopped dead, clutching his left breast. As the world
darkened Thomas thought
Shit!
And toppled over.

The boy at the other end of the bridge heard the
shot that hit him, saw him fall flat on his face and ran
straight to the village, screaming ‘The Duke! Somebody
shot the Duke!’

‘Where away?’ Sir Francis Burns yelled and the
boy pointed back down the road.
‘On the bridge!’
Francis jumped for his horse and shouted. ‘Send

for the surgeon!’ as he galloped out onto the road. As
he approached the bridge, he was astonished to see the
Duke of Durham face down in the road, his hand still
holding the leader of the horse standing patiently
beside him. He galloped onto the bridge and threw
himself out of the saddle. Two other local men joined
him, one of whom was a “proper” doctor and worked
with the miners about the county.

‘Let’s turn him over and have a look, shall we?’
Doctor Hoskins said and between them they gently
turned Thomas Stafford onto his back. His eyes stared at
the sky with blank certainty.

‘He’s gone.’ Doctor Hoskins said softly, feeling
inside his jacket, just in case. He pulled his hand out and
found it covered in blood. ‘What the devil?’ he said
firmly and ripped Thomas’s jacket open, revealing the
massive bloodstain on the front of his shirt. ‘He’s been
shot!’ he said in disbelief. He tore open the front of his
shirt and there was the blue edged whole, right over the
heart.

‘Should I fetch the magistrate?’ the other man
asked softly.
‘Yes, Tom. Go and fetch the magistrate here.
Charles Stafford will want to know what happened.’
Francis Burns said firmly. ‘And bring the wagon from the
coach house down here. We’ll have to take him home.’
Francis looked up at the other end of the bridge.
‘I’ll need to talk to that boy. He must have seen or heard
something, but I would imagine the gunman was
waiting in those trees.’ He surmised, indicating the
stand of poplar trees on the other side of the river. ‘He
must have used one of those new rifles. They are far
more accurate than a musket.’
‘Why would somebody shoot Thomas Stafford?’
Doctor Hoskins asked nobody in particular. ‘It wasn’t as
if he had a prominent position in the government or
something.’
‘I believe Lord Liverpool was considering him for
Lord Chancellor, but it will probably remain with the
Earl of Eldon now.’ Francis said quietly.
‘How do you know that?’ Doctor Hoskins asked
indignantly.
‘Because Tommy Stafford and I have been
friends for forty five years and he told me in his last
letter.’ With that Francis sat down in the road as his
shoulders shook and the tears flooded from his eyes.
‘Oh! Tommy.’ He said bereft. He couldn’t stop himself
from remembering some of their wild escapades when
they were boys. ‘He was a wild one.’ He murmured as
he sniffed and wiped the tears from his face.
‘What about his family?’
‘I’ll have to tell the new Duchess myself.’ Francis
said sadly. ‘She’s going to be gutted.’ He climbed back
on his horse, rode back to his mansion and dispatched a
messenger immediately to the King and the Prime
Minister.
He arrived back at the scene at the same time as
the wagon and the magistrate. He hummed and ha’d,
but in the end he allowed Francis to place Thomas
Stafford’s body on the wagon and lead it to Mickleton
Hall.
As the wagon pulled up at the front door,
Deacon hurried out. ‘You can’t stop here; you must take
it around the side.’ He demanded loudly of the driver.
‘Deacon.’ Francis said as he climbed off his
horse. ‘I don’t think the last time the Duke arrives at his
hall he should be carried in the back door.’
‘The Duke?’ Deacon gasped and ran down the
steps, peering over the side of the wagon at the body
resting on the boards. ‘Oh! My God!’ burst from him
and suddenly he was all butler as he bustled off for the
footmen, leaving Francis to search out Lady Victoria. He
found Agatha in the drawing room holding a reading.
Francis stopped dead in the doorway, not realising that
there would be a houseful of guests.
‘Francis!’ she gushed, he had asked for her hand
her first season, but she had turned him down. ‘What
are you doing here?’ she asked as she got up.
‘I need to see the Duchess?’ he asked softly.
‘Victoria? What for?’ Agatha asked and then she
truly looked at the expression on Francis’s face. ‘What
has happened?’ she asked hollowly.
‘I’m afraid the Duke was killed this afternoon.’
‘Killed?!’ erupted unbidden from her throat.
‘What do you mean killed?’
‘Agatha.’ He said patiently as he took her hand.
‘Somebody shot him on the bridge at Middleton.’
‘What?!’ she almost screamed and fainted dead
away, Francis just managed to catch her before she hit
the floor and scooped her up in his arms. He strode to
the nearest settee and laid her carefully down.
Margaret Bonham was on her feet in an instant.
‘What has happened?’ she demanded and
Francis could tell this woman was no wilting violet. He
explained again and again asked for the Duchess.
‘Victoria is out with the party. They were going to High
Force and then Cauldron Snout to show Edward the
sights.’ She said emptily. ‘Poor Thomas.’ And then
frowned and looked at him sternly. ‘Why was he on the
bridge? He should have been at Cauldron Snout with
the rest of the party!’
‘He had a lame mare with him, so I must assume
she threw a shoe and Tommy was walking it home.’ He
laid a gentle hand on her arm in rather an intimate
gesture. ‘We will need to get him laid out in the
chapel.’ Francis said.
‘Yes.’ Margaret said distantly and suddenly she
was hurrying out of the door calling for Mrs. Tate, the
housekeeper. ‘Ah! Mrs. Tate. We need to send a
message to the party at Cauldron Snout, can you get
one of the boys to go?’ she asked as she sat down in a
small parlour and pulled a sheet of vellum towards her.
Mrs. Tate bobbed a curtsey and went to roust out a boy
to carry the message. Margaret sat and debated what to
say. In the end she decided to be blatant. Nobody would
appreciate her beating around the bush.

She hurriedly folded the thick paper, lit the
candle and melted a wax stick in the flame. She swirled
the melted wax around and then pressed her signet ring
into the wax, sealing the missive. She wrote Charles
Stafford on the front and handed it to Deacon, who was
stood at the door waiting.

‘As quickly as the boy can ride, Deacon.’ She said
gently as she handed him the letter.
‘Yes, My Lady.’ He looked at her sorrowfully. ‘A
sad day, Countess.’ He murmured.
‘It is indeed.’ Margaret Bonham said, knowing it
was an understatement. She waited until Deacon left
and then she sat in the fireside chair and allowed the
tears to come. She had loved Thomas Stafford since the
first time she saw him, but he was already engaged to
Christina. She had tried to bury her unhappiness with
another man and had married the Earl of Pembroke,
only to watch him drink himself to death as he
debauched his way through every whore in London and
gambled away his fortune in every salacious dive in the
city. He died of the raging pox, his syphilitic body one
mass of lesions and sores and the only comfort he had
was a bottle of laudanum. Margaret had left almost as
soon as they were married. It only took her a week to
realise the enormity of her mistake. Hope rekindled
when Christina died after having her last child. She had
watched Thomas bury two still born sons and was
unable even to hold him for comfort. When Christina
died he was inconsolable and took the children straight
off to Durham for the mourning period. She was happy
to see him when he returned to London eighteen
months later and she hoped that they might find
common ground, but Agatha told her not to bother,
Thomas was not interested in another wife. So
Margaret was patient. She cursed herself for a fool for
listening to Agatha after she saw him dancing with
Victoria Bertrand and recognised the light in his eyes.
She had no choice but to watch him court and win the
Duchess of Wentworth, but she didn’t dislike Victoria or
blame Thomas in any way. He was happy and it was
obvious, so why should she upset the apple cart. Now it
was too late.
Margaret wiped her tears on her handkerchief,
rose slowly from the chair and made her way to the
Chapel to oversee the laying out. Chivers was already
there, with the Duke’s best clothes and between them
they stripped and washed his body, drying him carefully
and dressing him in his finery.
Edward had been fascinated at High Force and
had stood at the bend in the river for ages, just
watching the water rush over the rocks in its inexorable
journey to the sea. Eventually Victoria managed to get
him to the food and make him eat. Kitty took his place
and just watched the white water.
‘It is stunning.’ Richard whispered in her ear as
he wrapped his arms about her body. ‘Just like you.
Wild, untamed and beautiful.’ He mumbled as he kissed
her cheek, traced his tongue around her ear and then
sucked her earlobe gently.
‘Is that how you see me?’ she asked softly and
turned in his arms. ‘As some sort of wild woman?’ She
deliberately placed her hands on his hips and pulled his
body against hers. The reaction of his body was
instantaneous, as his erection rose quickly between
them.
‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely, ‘Wild is the word,
unpredictable would fit too!’ and he crushed his lips
over hers and seared her mouth with the scorching heat
of his own.
Kitty was in Nirvana already. She felt a coil of
excitement in the pit of her stomach every time Richard
kissed her and she couldn’t wait for her wedding night.
The bulge in his britches was fascinating and she wasn’t
afraid anymore. As he kissed her, she slid her hands
around onto his buttocks and pulled him close,
smoothing her hands over him.
He moaned softly and slowly withdrew his lips.
‘If you do that, I won’t be responsible for what
happens.’ He murmured.
‘Well, I’m not allowed to put my arms around
your body, because of your back!’ she said indignantly,
‘so where am I supposed to hold you?’ she demanded
with raised eyebrows.
He looked at the light in her eyes and was very
tempted to take her hand and place it on his prominent
erection, but he managed to restrain himself in amongst
such a large party. ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He whispered
wickedly in her ear.
‘When are we going to Cauldron Snout?’ Edward
demanded loudly.
‘Just listen to the Duke!’ Victoria said sharply.
‘Just remember you’re not too big to put over my knee.
So watch your manners!’
Kitty kissed Richard softly on the cheek and
disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘Stop pouting,
Edward. It makes you look like a spoiled brat, just like
my late brother Robin.’
Kitty launched herself into the saddle and looked
at Edward as he did the same. ‘Who’s Robin?’ he asked
innocently.
‘Robin was my eldest brother. We recently
discovered he’d got himself killed in a duel over
cheating at cards!’ she said harshly. ‘So be warned.
Nobody likes a bully, and nobody likes a sore loser. If
you play cards, be honest at all times and take into
account that you will lose. Nobody wins forever.’ She
instructed firmly. ‘Take a drink, in moderation and never
lose control of your faculties, or you can end up dead!’
and then she smiled. ‘But if you want my best advice,
stay away from loose women, they only lead to trouble.’
‘How can you say that?’ Charles demanded. ‘I’ve
known some loose women and had a great time.’
‘Yes, I’m sure Constance Beresford was a worthy
tup!’ Kitty riposted, making Charles blush. ‘But that led
to me being mauled by her husband. So I make my
case.’ With that, Kitty kicked her horse forward and
picked up the Pennine Way again and was quickly
cantering along the side of the river.
At Forest-in-Teesdale, they could have forded
the river Tees, but Kitty decided not to and they set off
across Cronkley Fell. An hour later Edward could see the
rainbows of the spray in the sky and was just going to
break into a gallop, when Charles grabbed the lead and
stopped him.
‘You’ll wear your horse out, Your Grace.’ He said
firmly. ‘And the ground is tricky.’
As they got closer Edward suddenly understood
the caution, as he saw how rocky the ground was. Haste
could have lamed his horse and he might have to walk
all the way home.
The crags rose majestically to the heavens and
the water spewing over them was ferocious. Kitty led
them to a watering place and they dismounted to rest
the horses.
Charles checked his watch to find that it was
almost two o’clock. It had taken them six hours to get to
their destination.
‘Come along, Edward.’ Kitty said and walked
purposefully towards the rock face.
‘Where are we going?’ he demanded.
‘This may be your only chance to climb the
waterfall at Cauldron Snout.’ She said firmly as she
started to climb.
‘Are you going to let her go on her own?’ Richard
asked Charles.
‘Of course! She’s been climbing there since she
was old enough to ride out with Robin and me.’ Charles
laughed at his friend’s discomfort. ‘If it bothers you,
follow her. The view from the top is spectacular.’
Richard rushed to catch up and Kitty heard him.
She stopped climbing and looked down. ‘Richard! Don’t
rush, if you fall it could be fatal.’
‘Will we be alright?’ Edward asked, suddenly
aware of how precarious his position was.
‘We’ll be fine, just take your time and make sure
of your hand and foot holds.’ Kitty explained and she
allowed Edward to pass her.
The rock face wasn’t sheer, but was fairly steep
and at two hundred feet high it was a substantial climb.
‘What about Charles and the others?’ Richard
gasped as his pale face emerged onto the top of the
ridge.
Kitty put her hand out and helped him over the
crest. ‘That’s why Charles didn’t climb.’ She explained.
‘He’ll take the ladies around the long way and they will
arrive here with the horses, so we don’t have to climb
down.’
She walked to the edge of the abyss and looked
down the falls at Cauldron Snout. Edward hung back,
unsure. ‘It’s all right, Edward. Come and have a look.’
She held out her hand, he firmly grasped it and she felt
the tremor in his fingers. She smiled benevolently and
exerted a little pressure to make him walk forward. As
he got to her side, she put her hand on his other
shoulder and gripped it firmly. ‘Shall I tell you a story?’
Edward nodded his head. ‘Many years ago, two wild
boys dragged a large brandy keg up here and they
climbed inside. They rolled it off the precipice and rode
the white water all the way to Low Force.’
‘Did they die?’ Edward whispered.
‘Not at all. They didn’t even have a bruise
between them.’
‘Who were they?’ Edward asked and looked up
at her face.
‘One was Sir Francis Burns, a Baronet from
Middleton and the other was my father.’
‘Now I understand where it comes from.’
Richard muttered.
‘So, remember. You can’t fool my father. He’s
been there and done it all.’
She heard the jingle of the livery as Charles
arrived with the horses.