The Ranleigh Question

  THE RANLEIGH QUESTION

  Lisa Boero

  Copyright © 2018 Lisa Boero

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0998259918

  ISBN 13: 9780998259918

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018902512

  Nerdy Girl Press, Marshfield, WI

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR:

  Murderers and Nerdy Girls Work Late

  Bombers and Nerdy Girls Do Brunch

  Kidnappers and Nerdy Girls Tie the Knot

  “Kept afloat by a plucky heroine, like a yuppie version of Stephanie Plum.”

  Kirkus Reviews

  The Richmond Thief, the first Lady Althea mystery

  And Hell Made Easy, the first book in the Trilogy from Hell

  For all of the many fans of Lady Althea.

  I had to keep the story going.

  CONTENTS

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR:

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I hope that Ranleigh lives up to expectations,” Althea said, as the carriage bumped along the ruts of a country road.

  “At least it will be a welcome respite for us both now that Arthur is back to his studies with Mr. Pellham. You know that you would be moped to death at Dettamoor Park without him,” Jane replied.

  “Or persecuted by Squire Pettigrew.”

  “You have only to tell Pettigrew that you are to marry the Duke of Norwich and he will leave off hounding you.”

  “But the engagement is to be kept secret, as you very well know, and telling Pettigrew would be like telling the world.”

  “I suppose so, but how can you decide if you and Norwich will suit if you do not spend the summer in his company?”

  “He promises to come to Dettamoor when Cousin John and his wife visit, and I’m sure that several weeks within the confines of the Park will be more than enough to come to the point. Besides, like all dutiful sons, he must dance attendance on the Dowager Duchess, as she is still poorly in Bath.”

  Althea felt that no good could come of discussing the very precise permutations of the Gordian knot that her emotions had become, so she forcefully turned the conversation away from her romantic entanglements. “Who has Sir Neville invited to stay at Ranleigh with us? I am afraid with all of the excitement of having Arthur home again, I was not paying very close attention when you told me.”

  Jane smiled ruefully. “I had noticed. It is quite a diverse group. His letter said that he had invited Lord and Lady Pickney.”

  “That is delightful! I shall enjoy a sojourn with the endless gossip and lively wit of Lady Pickney, but I am surprised that Sir Neville should be able to get the very particular Pickneys to accept his invitation. Is he much acquainted with them?”

  “No, but his letter hinted that, as you were to be one of the party, they deigned to accept the invitation. You must have made quite an impression on Lady Pickney.”

  “Honesty is such a refreshing quality. And she was right about Cousin Charles. He was like a fox let loose in the hen house. If only I had paid attention to her!”

  “The less said about our dead cousin, the better, I think.”

  Althea shuddered. “I am in complete agreement. Who else comes to Ranleigh?”

  “Lord and Lady Batterslea are also invited. She is the celebrated beauty, if you remember.”

  “I know I have seen her – the tall blonde with the alabaster skin and sleepy eyes – but cannot ever remember speaking to her.”

  “I don’t count that as a loss. I have spoken to her several times and don’t rate her conversation all that highly. Then again, she is very young, and so bound to be a little foolish,” Jane said.

  “Spoken with the voice of experience.”

  Jane ignored her. “Then there is Mr. Smithson, who was that funny little man with the loud waistcoats who always hung about looking sulky and overwrought. Sir Neville tells me that he is the uncontested leader of the dandy set, so I suppose that must count for something. Between you and me, however, I think Smithson must have invited himself, as I can’t see Sir Neville choosing him as a boon companion.”

  Althea, who credited Sir Neville’s desire to marry the level-headed Jane with making Sir Neville considerably less silly than he had been before, held her tongue. If Sir Neville had chosen to associate with a set of very foolish men in the past, she was certainly not in a position to comment or to judge him.

  Jane continued on. “Also joining the group are Mr. and Mrs. Gregson, who are an older couple from somewhere up north. And Baron Tunwell, who was that dour man we once sat next to at the theater. I gather he was a friend of Sir Neville’s father, or uncle, or something. Lord Tunwell, the Gregsons and Lord and Lady Batterslea have been to Ranleigh before, so I am hopeful that they will turn out to be a pleasant and welcoming party.”

  Althea smiled. “I am sure Sir Neville will do all in his power to make it so.”

  The lane to Ranleigh turned to the left and widened into a more tolerable road. Althea could see the beginning of what looked to be the grounds of the estate, and just beyond the next curve, the start of the ornamental gardens for which Ranleigh was justifiably famous.

  Althea hoped the sojourn in Ranleigh would help her to settle on the right path. She needed time and distance to decide if the feelings she harbored for the duke were merely a combination of lust, produced by the skills of a man well versed in the arts of dalliance, and gratitude for saving her from a fate worse than death at the hand of her cousin. If so, the match would not suit. However, if her feelings portended the kind of mutual regard essential for a fulfilling marriage, then she might look forward to a happy union, which was the only kind that could tempt her as a wealthy, independent widow.

  And there was another matter that troubled her. She had found herself strangely attracted to the duke’s brother, Lord George Verlyn, but she couldn’t tell if this attraction was real or simply a mild flirtation ballooned out of proportion by her vivid imagination when she thought that he was the Richmond Thief. It was all such a distressing muddle.

  “The gardens should be at their most delightful this time of year, “ Jane said, as if to force the subject away from painful memories. “And there are streams and a large ornamental pond that Sir Neville had dredged. I am told that the fishing is quite good, if one is inclined to be an angler.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about the house. Perhaps this visit will convince you once and for all to become its mistress.”

  “Sir Neville may have had such an object in mind,” Jane admitted.

  “And if Ranleigh is such a beautiful place, I wonder that your parents did not look upon Sir Neville’s suit with favor in your first London season?”

  “It was so heavily mortgaged at the time. The Tabards did not have a feather to fly with back then. It was only after a black sheep uncle who had run off to make his fortune in the East Indies died and left that fortune to Sir Neville that he was able to set the property to rights. That was some years after my parents had died, and I was ensconced at Dettamoor Park once again.”

  “There is still time, dear Jane. If Dettamoor Park will decide my future with Norwich, Ranleigh may yet decide yours with Sir Neville.”

  Jane sighed. “That is the Ranleigh question, I suppose.”

  “In any case, the grounds should supply me with all that I need of natural wonders for a clever scientific paper. I have been fretting over what is to be the topic of my next monograph for the Royal Society. It must be as novel as the last one was.”

  Althea had faced a hostile reception by the all-male Royal Society until she had submitted her work under the guise of her late husband’s studies, posthumously compiled by his devoted wife. She hoped to continue this ruse until such time as her work could be properly recognized, thus allowing her to take her rightful place among the scientists of her day.

  Her first monograph, describing the Trent method for determining the amount of time a cadaver had been left outside based upon the stages of the insects found upon it, had been widely acclaimed, not only because of its scientific merit, but also because of its practical application to crime detection. Mr. Read, the Magistrate of Bow Street, had been particularly effusive in his praise and commissioned Althea to prepare training materials for his Principal Officers, the only persons in London employed solely to solve crimes. It would be marvelous to hit upon just such a meritorious and useful study once again, but so far, no idea had yet occurred to Althea.

  Jane shook her head. “I am sure that you will be able to make a study of every creepy crawly thing your heart desires. And if no new thing presents itself, you have some notes my brother left to comp
ile.”

  In extremis only, Althea thought, but she hesitated before replying. It would not do to tell Jane just how much she worried about her scientific projects. Jane had a tendency to fret over Althea’s unorthodox habits and their potential effect on Althea’s social standing. It was ridiculous, but endearing. Besides, Jane needed all of her attention focused on the problem of becoming Sir Neville’s wife.

  “You are probably right, dear Jane. I’m sure I shall be able to pull something together. Ah, I think I see Sir Neville waving to us.”

  They were met at the door by Sir Neville himself, round and red-cheeked in the summer sun. He hurried up to the carriage. “My dear Lady Trent and Miss Trent, how delighted I am to welcome you to Ranleigh. I trust the journey was not too fatiguing?”

  “No, Sir Neville, you find us ready for any amusement Ranleigh shall offer,” Althea replied. “We have taken the trip in easy stages so as not to exhaust the horses.”

  He handed her out of the carriage and then turned a smiling face to Jane. “Miss Trent, I have long wished to introduce you to Ranleigh. Welcome.”

  Jane looked slightly uncomfortable, but managed to reply, “The pleasure is all mine, Sir Neville.”

  Sir Neville gave orders for their carriage to be sent back to the stables and for John, the coachman, to be accommodated. Miss Dorkins, the elderly abigail employed by the Dettamoor ladies, also alighted and was cordially offered refreshment in the kitchen, while Jane and Althea were offered a cup of tea and some plum cakes in the rose drawing room. Sir Neville informed them that a picnic nuncheon was to be served in an hours’ time in the rose garden. The baron, Mr. Smithson, and Mr. And Mrs. Gregson were the only guests to have already arrived, but Lord and Lady Pickney were expected later that afternoon.

  “The rose garden at Ranleigh is famous, I understand, for the variety and beauty of its roses,” Jane remarked, in between sips of fragrant tea. “Which of the Knights of Tabard planted it?”

  “Sir Walter Tabard, the fourth Knight, first planned the gardens at the time of the second King Charles, but they weren’t brought to their present state until very recently. I have undertaken a great deal of new work in the grounds, including an ornamental pond that I think heightens the untamed beauty of Ranleigh quite delightfully.”

  “We shall hope to have a complete tour,” Jane said.

  “Yes, and the pond as well. My late husband had thought to have one dug at the Park, but never realized that plan.” Althea said.

  “But of course. I shall be honored to take you myself.”

  After tea, Jane and Althea were shown to their rooms by the housekeeper, Mrs. Howell. She was a kindly woman who clearly took great pride in unveiling the stately apartments lately refurbished by their host in the classical style. Jane’s room was at the middle of the long hall, with Althea’s next to hers, connected by a small anteroom where the housekeeper had made up a bed for Miss Dorkins.

  When Jane and Althea were left alone to freshen up before they joined Sir Neville and the other guests out in the garden, Althea said, “Well, he has good taste in furniture, in any case. I had expected just the sort of heavy oak time-worn pieces we have at the Park, not the latest fashion in Grecian settees.”

  “The rooms are quite lovely, I admit. Sir Neville has always had an artistic eye.”

  “Perhaps that is why he is in love with you.”

  “I hardly think so.”

  Their trunks arrived along with a slightly frazzled Miss Dorkins. “Oh, my dear Lady Trent and Miss Trent, I’m so sorry it took me so long. Here, let me help you both out of your traveling dresses and into something fit to be seen. Oh, I do hope that the blue muslin hasn’t been crushed beyond all repair!”

  Althea laughed. “Calm yourself, Miss Dorkins. We shall select another dress if that one is wrinkled. It is just the Gregsons and the baron, after all. I don’t suppose they care what sort of dress I wear to an al fresco nuncheon, as I am not very well acquainted with any of them.”

  “You forget, there is Mr. Smithson, as well. But I think he is more likely to be preoccupied with his own dress rather than with ours. Dandies usually are,” said Jane.

  “Yes, so you see, Miss Dorkins, there is absolutely no reason to fear that you will disgrace yourself when I appear. Besides, I have a great deal of faith in your ability to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

  Miss Dorkins tut-tutted and set about pulling Jane and Althea out of their traveling dresses. She then fussed about unpacking the trunks, putting their clothes to rights, and cosseting them like a mother hen. Finally, she had them dressed, Althea in the blue muslin and Jane in a flower printed muslin that was very becoming indeed. Althea and Jane let her corral them for a final inspection, and then a servant came to guide them to the garden. As they crossed into the hall, Miss Dorkins reached up and adjusted Althea’s straw bonnet. It was trimmed with blue satin ribbon and tied roguishly under Althea’s ear.

  “Colors do so favor you, Lady Trent. I am glad your mourning time is over,” she said.

  Althea, who did miss the practicality of her previous black dresses, merely smiled and led Jane down the hall.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mr. Smithson was the only guest seated at the small table set out in the middle of a fragrant swath of red rose bushes at the center of the rose garden. He was a small, youngish man with a very long neck wreathed entirely by the tight linen fabric of an intricate cravat. His collar points were so high and so stiff with starch that he seemed to have some difficulty in turning his head, and so he always seemed to view his companions out of the corner of his eye, like a fish. He wore a brocade waistcoat of startling pattern and an extremely tight coat with obviously padded shoulders. Around his neck hung a long black ribbon, with an intricate gold quizzing glass attached at the end. This he raised to one eye as the ladies approached and then, dropping it with a practiced air, he stood and bowed to them.

  “Mr. Smithson at your service, Lady Trent and Miss Trent.”

  Jane and Althea responded with inclinations of the head. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smithson,” they replied in turn.

  “Forgive the informality of the introduction. Our good host was called away to attend to Mr. Gregson with some trifling matter. Lady Trent and Miss Trent, I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last. I have heard much, but let me say that the reality surpasses all of the rumors.”

  “Very pretty, sir,” Althea said.

  Jane followed with a hard look and then seated herself on the other side of the table.

  Althea took the chair held by Mr. Smithson. “The reality of the Ranleigh rose garden also surpasses any previous description. I don’t think I have ever seen such a profusion of blooms or such a variety of color. Are you as fond of gardens as Sir Neville, Mr. Smithson?”

  “Can’t say as I have much experience with them, Lady Trent. My family is from the north, where such profusions of greenery are harder to produce.”

  “Where in the north?” Jane said.

  “Yorkshire, so you can see why I have escaped to the Metropolis. Sir Neville tells me that Dettamoor Park is in Somerset.”

  “Yes,” Jane replied, and then, turning her head, she added, “and here is Sir Neville.”

  Sir Neville arrived, his countenance even more florid than before and his corsets creaking in time with his steps. He mopped his damp brow with a perfumed handkerchief and said breathlessly, “Mr. And Mrs. Gregson will join us presently. And I saw Lord Tunwell this morning at breakfast, so I’m sure he will join us as well. May I offer you some refreshment while we wait? Some lemonade or perhaps a mild claret? I shall have them brought directly.”

  “I am quite refreshed enough with the tea you have previously offered, but perhaps you might show us some of this lovely garden while we wait?” Jane said.

  “But of course, Miss Trent.” He motioned for a footman who had followed him out and gave him instructions to come and find them when Mr. or Mrs. Gregson emerged from the house. Then he held out his arm to Jane.”

  Mr. Smithson stood. “Perhaps, Lady Trent, you would join me in taking a turn about the garden as well?”

  “With pleasure.”

  The four set out, but Althea soon took the opportunity of separating herself from Jane and Sir Neville. When they were out of earshot, she steered Mr. Smithson away from the roses. “We must give Cupid his full share of opportunity,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Come, I have a great desire to see the pond Sir Neville has spoken of. Do you know which direction we should go?”