Catherine Lloyd, author of the critically acclaimed Kurland St. Mary mysteries debuts with the first book in a new series set in Regency England,where circumstances compel one Lady Caroline Morton to become a lady's companion whose duties will soon entail solving a murder . . .
The options for the penniless daughter of a deceased earl are few indeed in Regency England. So, following the suspicious death of her father, the Earl of Morton, and the discovery that she and her much younger sister have been left without income or home, Lady Caroline takes a post as a lady's companion to the wealthy widow Frogerton.
Just as Caroline is getting accustomed to her new position, her aunt, Lady Eleanor Greenwood, invites her and her employer to a house party in the countryside to celebrate her youngest daughter's birthday. Mrs. Matilda (Matty) Frogerton sees this as an opportunity to introduce her own rather wild daughter, Dorothy, to the ton, and Caroline is eager to see her sister, who as a child lives with their aunt.
But all is not well at the Greenwood estate. For one thing, Lady Caroline's former fiancé, Lord Francis Chatham, is a guest and refuses to speak to her. Far worse, after a series of troubling harassments of the staff, an elderly family member is found stabbed by a knitting needle.
As Caroline and an unexpected ally—Mrs. Frogerton—attempt to solve the chilling crime, they discover the culprit may be leaving bizarre clues as to who will be next in the nursery. But they must make haste, for this heartless killer is engaged in anything but child's play . . .
Release date:
May 31, 2022
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
304
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Caroline stiffened as her aunt Lady Eleanor Greenwood cast a dismissive glance around the highly overdecorated drawing room of number eight Half Moon Street. It was well past the usual time for calling, but her aunt had never been one to worry about such niceties when she considered a person socially beneath her.
“Really, Caroline. A rented house? Does your employer not have the means to buy something decent for herself?”
“I’m fairly certain she does, ma’am,” Caroline said. “But she hasn’t decided whether she wishes to stay in London for more than just the current Season.”
“And if she doesn’t like it, does she intend to drag you back up north with her? I must assume she is a widow, because no husband would allow her to spend so much money on such frivolities.” Aunt Eleanor shuddered, making the three tall feathers on her bonnet quiver. She had a sharp face, a pointed nose, and a pinched mouth that currently signaled her disapproval. “Where does her money come from?”
“That’s hardly any of our business, ma’am.” Caroline set her jaw. “Mrs. Frogerton has been very kind to me, and—”
“But there was no need for this, Niece.” Her aunt interrupted her again. “You demean yourself to accept a wage. You know I would have welcomed you back to Greenwood Hall with open arms.”
Caroline curtsied. “You have been more than generous to me and my sister over the years, Aunt, but I fear becoming a burden on your kindness.”
“Yet you happily allow me to house your sister.”
“I will relieve you of that responsibility as soon as I am able to do so.” Caroline held her aunt’s derisive gaze.
“On the wages you are currently being paid? I doubt it.” Aunt Eleanor sighed. “I suppose you think you might marry at some point and that your husband would be willing to take your sister in.” She paused. “Although seeing as your father’s unfortunate death has left both of you penniless and homeless, what kind of gentleman would agree to marry you?”
“I have not thought of marriage recently, ma’am.” Caroline hurried to reassure her aunt. “I merely—”
“Well, I am still determined to change your mind, Niece.”
Aunt Eleanor took a short promenade around the room, pausing to stare and shake her head at every garishly fashionable Egyptian object Mrs. Frogerton had hired to furnish the house. The style wasn’t to Caroline’s taste either, but she’d enjoyed watching Mrs. Frogerton exclaim in wonder over every item she’d ordered from her avid perusal of the furniture illustrations in Ackermann’s Repository.
Eventually Aunt Eleanor stopped beside the inlaid marble fireplace and turned to Caroline.
“I am holding a seventeenth birthday party for your cousin Mabel next week. I expect you to attend.”
“Where is the event to be held?” Caroline asked. “I’m sure I could get the evening off if it is here in London.”
“No, Mabel is insisting that everyone must come to Greenwood Hall for a house party.”
Caroline braced herself for her aunt’s anger. “Then I am afraid I will be unable to attend.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. I’m sure Mrs. Frogerton won’t mind.”
“But I would mind,” Caroline said. “I am employed to be by her side and to help ease her daughter Dorothy’s way in society. I cannot abandon my post just as the Season is about to start.”
Aunt Eleanor’s smile disappeared. “You are being most disobliging.” She tapped her gloved fingers against the marble mantelpiece like a mistress testing for dust. “Do you not wish to see your sister?”
Was there a threat behind Eleanor’s words? Caroline wouldn’t be surprised. Her aunt was more like Caroline’s recently deceased father than most people realized and hated not to get her way.
“I would very much like to see Susan, but—”
Again, her aunt cut her off. “What if I invited your employer and her daughter to accompany you?”
“To . . . Greenwood Hall?”
“Yes, I assume the daughter is of a similar age to Mabel. Would it not be in her best interest to be introduced to a select few people who are also about to make their debut in society?”
“I would imagine it would.” Caroline’s mind worked furiously. “But I will have to consult with Mrs. Frogerton as to whether she wishes to attend.”
Aunt Eleanor made a dismissive gesture. “Surely she will be honored by such an invitation. I mean, who else among the ton would offer her such an entrance to society?” She picked up her gloves and turned to the door. “I am leaving for Greenwood Hall tomorrow at noon. Please let me know your decision before I depart.”
“Do you have the exact dates?” Caroline asked.
Her aunt opened her reticule and drew out a cream card with silver engraved writing on it.
“The details are all here. Do you have a pen?”
“Yes, of course.” Caroline rushed over to the desk beneath the window, opened it, and found her aunt a serviceable quill pen and some ink. She waited for the scratch of the pen to finish and for her aunt to blot her script.
“Here you are.” Aunt Eleanor held out the card.
“Thank you.” Caroline cast a distracted glance at the door. “Are you quite certain that you don’t wish to wait while I see if Mrs. Frogerton is awake and willing to answer for herself?”
“I do not have the time, Niece. Your uncle and I are expected at Lord Antwerp’s for dinner and I have to change my gown.” Eleanor swept toward the door. “I will expect to hear from you before noon tomorrow.”
Caroline stared at the closed door for quite some time, her fingers clasped around the deckled edge of the invitation. The thought of seeing her sister after three months was very appealing, but she still doubted her aunt’s motives. Did Eleanor think to alienate Mrs. Frogerton during the visit and persuade her to leave Caroline behind when she returned to London? It was all too likely, and her aunt would have no compunction in humiliating a social inferior. She was known to have very rigid standards.
“Who was that calling at such a late hour?”
Caroline looked up as her employer came through the door surrounded by a sea of yapping dogs. Mrs. Frogerton wore a muslin dress in a colorful print and an elaborate lace cap. Her beautiful, fringed silk shawl trailed on the carpet and was being vigorously attacked by one of the dogs.
“Shall I ring for some tea, ma’am?” Caroline inquired as she rushed over to rescue the shawl and guide her employer into her favorite seat by the fire.
“Yes, please, and then sit down and tell me about our visitor.”
Mrs. Frogerton had a strong northern accent and, despite her diminutive size and soft roundness, lungs similar to a cavalry officer, making her a somewhat terrifying spectacle. But beneath her loud exterior Caroline had discovered she had a kind heart, a sense of humor, and a sharp intelligence. She always treated Caroline like a person rather than a lowly servant to be ordered around and was willing to listen to an alternate viewpoint. Her daughter, Dorothy, having grown up with a superior sense of her own worth and wealth, was far more demanding and difficult to please.
“My aunt, Lady Eleanor Greenwood, came to call,” Caroline said as she took the seat opposite her employer. “She . . . invited us to attend a house party to celebrate the birthday of my cousin Mabel, who will be turning seventeen this month.”
She proffered the invitation. Mrs. Frogerton snatched at it with her mittened hand and put on her spectacles.
“Oh, dear Lord above!” She flapped the card like a fan in front of her face and screeched like her parrot, Horace. “What an honor!”
“The party will be held in the countryside,” Caroline reminded her. “I know you prefer to be entertained in town.”
“Was this your doing, miss? Did you prevail upon your aunt to invite us?” Mrs. Frogerton looked up, her brown eyes sparkling. She often reminded Caroline of an inquisitive sparrow.
“I merely suggested that I wouldn’t be able to attend if it didn’t suit my employer,” Caroline said.
“As if I would stop you from going out and enjoying yourself, my love.” Mrs. Frogerton tutted fondly. “You’re part of my family now, lass, and don’t you forget it.”
“Then you think you might wish to attend?” Caroline asked hopefully.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Her employer pointed at the bell. “Now tell Brendan to forget the tea and bring me some sherry to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” Dorothy Frogerton came into the room, her brow creased with annoyance. “Do you have to be so obnoxiously loud, Mother?”
“We have been invited to Lady Eleanor Greenwood’s house party at Greenwood Hall in Norfolk, Dotty!”
“Why would I want to go to a stupid house party in the middle of nowhere when I’m about to have my debut in London?” Dorothy asked.
“It would be an excellent opportunity for you to meet some of the other young ladies who will be making their debuts alongside you,” Caroline spoke up. “And I can assure you that my aunt’s guests will be of the highest quality.”
“Your aunt?” Dorothy swung around to stare at Caroline, making her acutely aware of her plain dress and severe hairstyle. “With all due respect if she can’t afford to keep you from having to earn your own living, I doubt she has any standing in society.”
“Don’t be rude, Dot. Perhaps Caroline prefers it that way,” Mrs. Frogerton intervened. “Not everyone wants to be beholden to family.”
“My aunt did offer me a home, Miss Frogerton, but I refused.” Caroline kept her voice steady as she replied. “I decided to make my own way in the world.”
“Then you are stupid,” Dorothy said flatly. “Women are not designed to care for themselves. They need a man to do that for them.”
“What balderdash!” Mrs. Frogerton snorted. “Who do you think ran your grandfather’s business, young lady? Who stayed behind late every night to make sure every order was perfect? Who managed the books? I can tell you that it wasn’t my father. He was worse than useless, the drunken old sot.”
Caroline still wasn’t used to the loud and frank exchange of opinions the Frogertons favored and often wished she could hide under a chair until each storm had blown over.
“Don’t talk about the business, Mother!” Dorothy scolded. “You will ruin my chances of finding a good match if people think my money comes from trade.”
“But it does, my love. I’m not ashamed of that, and neither should you be.”
For once Caroline had to agree with Dorothy. Even though the young Miss Frogerton was beautiful and very well dowered, she was only one generation removed from the stink of new money, and that would influence the young gentleman who decided to consider her as a potential bride.
Brendan, the young Irish footman, appeared in the doorway with the drinks tray and hesitated as the mother and daughter faced each other like two prizefighters in a ring.
“You can set the tray down here,” Caroline murmured to him. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, miss.”
Brendan departed with some alacrity, and for a moment Caroline wished she could join him. Surely neither of the Frogertons would notice if she went to check on the timing of dinner? Sometimes in this new and uncertain world she now inhabited she felt as if the ground were crazed ice beneath her feet.
Just as she turned toward the door, Dorothy marched over to her. “Mother said I must apologize for calling you stupid.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said.
“I still think you’re foolish, though.” Dorothy curled one of her golden ringlets around her finger and pouted. She was a remarkably pretty girl with a large fortune who should take well with the ton, as long as she kept her origins and opinions to herself. “But I suppose at your age, the chances of capturing a husband are fairly slim anyway.”
“True,” Caroline acknowledged. She had no intention of reminiscing with Dorothy about her very successful first Season, when she had attracted the attention of not only a viscount, but the son of an earl. That life was behind her now and she refused to continue to miss it.
“Although you are remarkably elegant looking with your dark hair and blue eyes.” Dorothy was still talking. “Mother said I would do well to learn from you about how to comport myself properly.”
“I believe that is one of the reasons she hired me,” Caroline agreed, although in the last six months, Dorothy hadn’t listened to a single word of advice from her. “I have lived in high society since I was born and understand the way of it.”
She also knew how quickly such a society would offer you the cut direct if they deemed you or your family unacceptable. Her father’s suicide and financial ruin had brought that home to her all too forcibly.
“You think it would be a good idea to go to this house party, then?” Dorothy half turned to include her mother in the conversation.
Caroline retrieved the drinks tray and brought it to the table beside Mrs. Frogerton.
“Yes, indeed. My aunt is an excellent hostess. There will be many opportunities for riding, taking the air, visiting the village, and of course, the ball to celebrate my cousin Mabel’s birthday will be magnificent.”
“There is to be a ball?” Dorothy immediately perked up.
“Yes, they have an excellent-sized ballroom at Greenwood Hall.” Caroline remembered dancing there very well—the excitement of new partners, a new ballgown, the whisper of promise that one night—maybe that night—she would meet the man of her dreams.... “You could wear the dress Madame Julie delivered today.”
“Or I could get a new one.” Dorothy looked at her mother. “Something more suitable to wear to her ladyship’s party.”
“I would not worry about being too formal,” Caroline hastened to say. “Balls are usually less . . . showy in the countryside, and one would not wish to stand out.”
“Why ever not?” Dorothy frowned. “I would much prefer to be noticed than ignored.”
Caroline turned desperately to her employer, who was listening intently, a smile lingering on her face as she regarded her daughter. She was still quite young, having married and produced her two children before the age of twenty.
“The ball gown that was just delivered will be more than adequate for your daughter’s needs, ma’am, and, in truth, we do not have time for the dressmaker to sew a completely new outfit. The invitation is for the upcoming weekend.”
“So it is!” Mrs. Frogerton rose to her feet and hurried over to her desk. “I must reply to it at once and get a footman to take our acceptance to Lady Eleanor immediately!”
“I will take the letter for you if you wish, ma’am,” Caroline offered. “I haven’t been out today, and I’m sure some of the dogs would relish an evening walk.”
“I have no objection to you taking the note yourself, dearie,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “As long as you eat your dinner before you go.”
“Yes, of course, ma’am.” Caroline curtsied and turned back to the door, leaving the two women excitedly planning for the trip ahead.
Later as she walked down Half Moon Street with four reluctant dogs trailing at her heels, she had something of a headache. Attempting to curb Dorothy’s excesses without offending her or her mother took a set of skills only acquired by years of diplomacy—skills Caroline had not yet acquired, or even realized she might ever need. There was also the matter that Dorothy clearly viewed her as inferior and her lowering suspicion that even when her advice was excellent, it would still be ignored.
Caroline sighed as she mounted the steps of her aunt’s town house and rang the bell. It took quite a while for the elderly butler to answer the door. His smile when he saw her was something of a balm to her fractured sensibilities.
“Good evening, Mr. Woodford.”
“Lady Caroline! What a nice surprise.” He held open the door. “Are you coming in, miss? Her ladyship didn’t mention you would be traveling back with us.”
“I’m not.” Caroline indicated the dogs and proffered the sealed note. “I just came to drop this off before she leaves.”
“Oh, that’s a shame, miss.” The butler’s face fell. “We all miss you at the hall.”
“I miss you, too.” Caroline found a smile somewhere. “Please tell my sister that I will be attending Mabel’s birthday celebrations.”
“We will all look forward to that.” Mr. Woodford took the letter. “Miss Susan will be thrilled.”
Caroline walked down the steps and paused to look back at the house she had so recently inhabited. The windows were lit up and she could see her aunt upstairs in her bedchamber getting ready to go out. Her uncle was probably in his study reading and smoking his pipe.
If she ran back up the steps, hammered on the door, and begged her aunt to let her stay, she was fairly certain her wish would be granted, but where would that leave her? Forever trapped in a mesh of family obligation and gratitude that she might never escape, her opinions, her opportunities, her very sense of self gone forever.
The shock of her father’s death and the ghastly reveal of his lack of fortune and mountain of debts had ripped away any sense of security and safety Caroline had ever had. Her father had even managed to get around the legal implications and plundered the funds left to her and Susan by their mother for their dowries, leaving them penniless and at the mercy of their relatives.
Her aunt expected eternal gratitude for her benevolence, but all Caroline had left was a slow-burning anger that seemed impossible to extinguish. She bent to untangle the dogs’ leads and turned her back on the house. She had lost everything and everyone she cared for except Susan, and she would do anything in her power to make certain that her sister never suffered a similar fate.
Just before she turned the corner of the square a carriage arrived at the door. She paused to watch her aunt and uncle leave for their dinner with Lord Antwerp, a man whose eldest son had once courted her rather assiduously. If he saw her now in her drab plain cloak, gray gown, and respectable bonnet, he wouldn’t even acknowledge her existence. She increasingly felt that the girl she had once been was disappearing in front of her and being replaced by—what?
That was the question she was still unable to answer even to herself. She started walking again as the carriage with its oblivious occupants swept past her. All she knew was that the forgiveness that she was supposed to feel for those who had wronged her was far from occurring and that the only thing sustaining her through her current existence was that cold, hard store of pride buried deep in her soul.
She relished it, she fed it, and until something happened to show her that the world was not the unforgiving place it had turned out to be, she would bank those fires within her without shame.
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Frogerton exclaimed as their rented carriage drew up at the entrance to Greenwood Hall. “What a very grand residence!”
Caroline had spent so much time at Greenwood Hall after her mother’s death and her father’s attempts to foist his two children off on various relatives that she almost considered the place home. Seeing it through the eyes of the Frogerton ladies was both entertaining and instructional.
The flint-fronted house was set on a level plain between several water channels both natural and man-made in a landscape that contained few trees and no visible hills. The immense gray sky hugged the low scrubby marshland where a constant breeze blew in off the cold North Sea to surround and enfold the house.
“It’s huge,” Dorothy whispered, for once more silent than her mother.
“The original house was built in Tudor times and the two additional brick wings were added about a hundred years ago,” Caroline explained as she waited for a footman to emerge from the house, open the door, and let the step down. “My aunt often laments the complexities of the layout, but my uncle will not hear of changing it. His family have lived here since the civil war.”
“When was that?” Dorothy asked.
“The sixteen hundreds, I believe.” Caroline rolled down the window and stared inquiringly at the still-closed door. “It is most unlike my aunt’s staff to be so tardy.”
She reached down and released the exterior door handle of the carriage herself. “Perhaps they have been overwhelmed by too many guests arriving at the same time.”
She raised the massive brass knocker shaped like a stag that adorned the oak-studded front door and knocked twice before she detected the sound of approaching footsteps. One of the maids opened the door and stood there panting.
“Oh! It’s you, miss. I thought it was someone important.”
“Good afternoon, Peggy.” Caroline concealed a smile and indicated the occupants of the carriage behind her. “Can you get one of the footmen to bring in Mrs. Frogerton’s baggage? And where is Mr. Woodford?”
“He’s rather busy, miss, what with the party guests arriving, and her ladyship not having come down yet, and two of the footmen being ill . . .”
“Then we will just have to manage by ourselves, won’t we?” Caroline offered the girl a bright smile. “Do you know which rooms have been allocated for Mrs. Frogerton and her daughter?”
“Oh, yes, miss. I cleaned out the grates and put some nice fresh flowers in them this morning.” Peggy lowered her voice. “Her ladyship wasn’t sure if your lady had a maid or not, and told me I should be ready to step in if necessary.”
“Excellent.” Caroline turned back to the carriage where Dorothy was already beginning to pout. “Do you need help, Miss Frogerton, or shall I just aid your mother?”
Dorothy emerged with a frown and straightened her bonnet. “I knew this was a mistake.”
Caroline helped Mrs. Frogerton descend from the carriage and supported her into the house.
“This is Peggy. She will accompany us to your rooms.”
Mrs. Frogerton beamed at the maid. “You’re a pretty lass, indeed.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Peggy bobbed a curtsy. “Please follow me.”
Both Dorothy and her mother paused as they entered the marble entrance hall with the six alcoves containing stone statuary, three on either side of the wide curving staircase that led up to a wide landing.
“Ooh, it’s grand,” Mrs. Frogerton said approvingly. “Like a palace.”
“My aunt and uncle will be delighted to hear that you think so, ma’am.” Caroline walked her employer toward the stairs. “Lord Greenwood spent some of his youth traveling the world on his grand tour and brought back many treasures to the family home.”
Dorothy was looking up, her mouth open at the interior of the dome that was painted to resemble the Sistine Chapel. She didn’t say anything but even Caroline could see she was impressed.
“Her ladyship put Miss Frogerton right next door to Mrs. Frogerton with a connecting door between them,” Peggy announced as they reached the landing and she turned to the left.
Caroline was slightly relieved to see that her aunt hadn’t relegated her unwanted guests to the attics and had instead given them a perfectly respectable set of rooms on the first floor.
“Here you are, ma’am.” Peggy opened the door with a flourish and stepped aside. “Her ladyship calls this the Lilac Suite although it looks more blue to me.” She pointed at the interior door. “Miss Frogerton’s room is right next door.”
“Thank you, Peggy.” Caroline did a quick survey of the brightly appointed room and could see nothing to fault. There was already a fire lit in the grate warming the lofty dimensions of the elaborate plaster ceiling and delicate silk-covered walls.
“Would you like me to stay and help you settle in, ma’am?” Peggy asked Mrs. Frogerton.
“I will help Mrs. Frogerton,” Caroline said with a smile. “But perhaps you might bring up a pot of tea? I assume dinner will not be served for at least another two hours.”
“Ye. . .
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