Page 49 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
‘But if she is in love with Jerald, why didn’t she refuse Tillingham?’ James asked.
‘Because she is a well-bred little mouse. She is sweet, she is obedient, she is dutiful. I imagine it would never occur to her that she could defy her parents once they had secured such an excellent match for her,’ I said. ‘I’m not even certain she is in love with Jerald, not as utterly convinced of it as he is, anyway. Perhaps she sees him as nothing more than her best friend, or she had a fairy tale idea of love which, when she was confronted with reality, crumbled away.’
‘So, she accepts Tillingham,’ James said, nodding. ‘Jerald writes a threatening anonymous note to his cousin, who puzzles over it. Perhaps he half-recognises the handwriting. Or perhaps he does know who sent it, but doesn’t take it seriously. Yet he would want to keep it, just in case he had to take action to prevent Jerald becoming a nuisance. He took his role as head of the family seriously: he would not want to cause a family scandal and I expect he would dismiss it as a youthful infatuation. As a threat it wasn’t very awe-inspiring.’
‘That leads Jerald to believe he is ignored by his cousin, the Viscount,’ Luke said. ‘That would fester. He wants to be treated as an adult, a worthy contender for Arabella’s hand. Instead, he believes he is dismissed, treated like a child.’
‘His uncle berates him for his failure to take up the position he has secured for him, but how can Jerald go and leave the field completely open to Tillingham? And then the will is read and, not only has he been left a generous legacy, which may well have pricked his conscience, but Arabella also receives a significant addition to her dowry and his brothers decide to court her,’ I continued. ‘And the day before yesterday I actually heard him repeat the warning in the note that was in the clockLeave her alone!I knew there was something else nagging in the back of my mind besides Marcus’s description of Court dress. Percy was talking about wooing Arabella and Jerald flared up at him.’
‘No wonder that girl is in such an emotional state,’ Lady Radcliffe said, pushing away her glass. ‘Either she suspects Jerald is a murderer or he has even told her that he is –Look what I have done out of love for you.If he has been so cruelly thoughtless, then she probably blames herself for it all.’ She rang the little bell beside her plate and when the footman entered told him to hold dinner until further notice. ‘My apologies to Cook.’
When he had gone out she looked around at our grim faces. ‘I couldn’t manage to eat and talk about this.’
‘Jerald must be quite unhinged,’ James said.
‘He is now,’ Luc said slowly. ‘I suspect it all began with an act of impulse. There he was, all rigged out in Court dress looking, and feeling, thoroughly impressive and adult. He decided to have it out, man to man, so he climbed over the fence and went to Henry’s study window. Henry would have dismissed his declaration as youthful nonsense, of course. Jerald flared up – a second’s loss of temper and control and Henry is dead at his feet. In that moment he must have felt powerful, as though he had defeated his enemy in a duel for the hand of his lady.’
We sat silently digesting this and it was clear that we all found it convincing.
‘I think we have the explanation for the mysterious message to Alexander Prescott,’ Luc continued, twisting the stem of his glass between his fingers. ‘It was Jerald’s revenge for the way his uncle had been nagging him – insulting him, as I expect he saw it – over his refusal to take up the position in York.’
‘And then the exhilaration wore off and reality hit him,’ I said. ‘I think it began to sink in when we saw him that morning at Tillingham’s house. Now he is enmeshed beyond hope and I expect he knows it. So does Arabella. What do we do? Send for the nearest magistrate?’
‘And if we are wrong? We still have no hard proof. There’s the anonymous note – the handwriting could be checked. Possibly there is some footman who recalls when Jerald arrived at the reception, but that is all.’ Luc tossed back the dregs of his wine. ‘We would be sending the officers of the law into a house of mourning, with a desperately sick man at its heart, on the basis of only circumstantial evidence and our own deductions. I will go and talk to Jerald, see if I can get him to confess, then tell his father and uncle and hope we can remove him from the house without distressing the ladies.’
I rolled my eyes at that. Distressing the ladies? They were going to be pretty distraught when the truth came out, however it was revealed. Unless the family could convince a judge that Jerald was insane he would go to the gallows. Even if he didn’t, the prospect of a Regency madhouse was enough to make anyone wish for the noose.
‘I’ll come with you,’ James said.
‘And me. In case Arabella needs me,’ I added when Luc looked ready to refuse. I had no intention of staying in the parlour patting her hand, but I knew better than to try and defy outright the Georgian male’s sensibilities about the protection of ladies.
‘I don’t think we can leave this overnight, not if Jerald is in as precarious a mental state as we fear.’ Luc pushed back his chair. ‘I am afraid we must desert you, Mama. Do not wait dinner for us.’
Chapter Fifteen
We changed before we set out for Tillingham Hall. As James said, if we had to grapple with an unhinged murderer, he was damned if he was doing it in his decent evening suit and indoor shoes. I also had the suspicion, seeing the care with which they arranged themselves when we got into the carriage, that they both had assorted knives and pistols hidden about their persons. I took the precaution of bringing a substantial reticule, which was a handy weapon in itself, and wore stout shoes, ideal for shin-kicking. Thinking of practical things like that helped, a little, with the sick feeling inside. I had liked Jerald, but I could see nothing that was going to save the troubled young man: not here and now in 1807.
The footman who answered the door looked understandably surprised at our arrival at such an hour. ‘The family is shortly to go in to dinner, my lord.’
‘It is a matter of some urgency. Please ask Mr Jerald Prescott if we could speak with him.’
‘I regret that Mr Jerald is not with the rest of the party in the drawing room, my lord. It may take me a while to find him.’
‘In that case, Mr Alexander.’
‘Of course, my lord. If you would care to wait in here.’
We were ushered into a small reception room with a number of doors in it. Through one I could hear the muffled sound of conversation, which was presumably the family gathering before going in to eat.
Through another, opposite the first, came the unmistakeable sound of sobbing.
‘That’s Arabella,’ I said and opened the door onto what looked like an antechamber of some kind.
Arabella was standing in the middle of the room, wringing her hands. She turned a tear-drenched face towards me. ‘Miss Lawrence?’
Behind her I could see Jerald, immaculate in evening dress, his face as white and haggard as an old man’s.
I kept my voice as calm as I could. ‘Do come through here, Arabella.’ I held out my hand and smiled and she took a hesitant step towards me. I think I might have got her then, but the door swung completely open, revealing the room behind me to Jerald.
