Somehow Adam felt there was more here than met the eye. What was he missing? It was an expensive necklace, but surely it was not so important that it would cause a man to do murder to retrieve it? Had it been the deeds to a man’s estate Adam could have understood it—but why kill for a necklace, however expensive?
There must be a further reason. Something of such importance that the murderer had been driven to desperate measures to attempt its retrieval.
In which case he would undoubtedly return to look for it.
Adam returned to his task of searching Mark’s bedchamber later that afternoon. Having already checked inside the drawers, he took each one out in case something had either been lodged behind or got caught up at the back, but there was nothing to discover. He then began a search of his cousin’s coat pockets. As before he found various small items: a gold fob, a stickpin and several pieces of string, plus two pebbles and a trinket that took stones from a horse’s hooves. It was in a velvet evening coat that he finally came across some gold coins and a handful of screwed-up papers, which, when smoothed out, appeared to be IOUs from a card game.
Mark had won what amounted to five thousand guineas and two different hands had signed the notes. One name was Stafford, which Adam knew to be Lord Jeffery Stafford, or Staffs as his fellow officers affectionately called him. His note was for five hundred guineas; the remaining notes were from Fontleroy.
Mark and Staffs were the greatest of friends. If Staffs had lost five hundred guineas to Mark, he would undoubtedly have paid him when they next met. Fontleroy was another matter. Adam had not been aware that his cousin knew the fellow well enough to play cards with him. The marquis was not a man he would care to sit down with—Adam had once witnessed him cheating, but had kept quiet, advising the victim privately to be on his guard another time, rather than causing a scandal.
Could Mark also have won the necklace from Fontleroy? There was no mention of it amongst the notes—anything to say that he would retrieve it for money at a later date.
Since Adam had now completed his search of the room and both the necklace and the notes had been removed, Adam did not lock his cousin’s room when he left. He would not go there again for there was no reason.
Hallam was to take the necklace to London in an effort to discover the identity of its owner. Adam would show the notes to his cousins. They might provide a reason for Fontleroy to visit Mark, either to redeem them or come to some arrangement, but that meant little. It would be impossible to prove that he had been here or was responsible in any way for Mark’s murder. They had a clue to the possible identity of his cousin’s killer, but no proof as yet that would stand up in a court of law.
Paul was angry enough to take the law into his own hands, but Adam was determined to avoid using more violence than necessary. A thrashing was one thing, but murder was something else. If Paul struck out in anger, killing his victim, it could not bring his brother back.
There was nothing more they could do now until after Mark was laid to rest with his ancestors.
* * *
‘I look terrible in black,’ Lucy said, as she looked at herself in her dressing mirror. ‘Mark would have hated me to wear something like this, I know he would.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the name of the man she loved. ‘Why did he have to die? I want him back, Jenny. I want him back...’
‘I am sure you do’ Jenny sympathised. ‘I know you loved him.’
‘Mark was to have given me my ring yesterday,’ Lucy said, her throat tight with emotion. ‘We should have dined there last evening amongst friends and our engagement would then have been formally announced to the world—with the wedding at the end of next month, for we did not wish to wait long.’
‘It is so painful for you,’ Jenny said, her throat tight. ‘You must try to get through it as best you can, Lucy dearest. I shall help you as much as I can.’
‘I do not know what I should have done had you not been here,’ Lucy said and sniffed. ‘I wish I need not go, Jenny. Mama says neither of us has to attend the church service unless we wish, but we must be at the reception.’
‘You must decide,’ Jenny told her doubtfully. ‘Mama was always of the opinion that it was not fitting for ladies to attend a funeral—unless it was for a child, husband or parent. Yet it is a matter of choice. I shall abide by your decision.’
‘Papa thinks we should all go since Ravenscar is one of his oldest friends.’
‘For myself I feel it shows respect and I know you would not wish to be lacking in any way, Lucy dearest—but if you really cannot bear it you could tell your mama that you have a terrible headache.’
Lucy sniffed and brushed the tears from her cheeks. ‘No, I shall go—but only to the reception. I do not think I could bear to attend the service and burial.’
‘Then we shall go to the house and wait until your mother and father return with the other guests attending the church. I am certain Lord Ravenscar will understand you are too heartbroken to attend the service.’
Lucy gave a sob and then turned away. As Jenny moved towards her, she swung back to face her and her eyes were bright with a mixture of distress and defiance.
‘Everyone assumes that I’m heartbroken,’ she said, ‘but the truth is I had begun to have doubts. I had intended to speak to Mark and ask if we might wait a little longer.’
‘You were thinking of delaying your wedding?’ Jenny was stunned. ‘Oh, Lucy. I had no idea...’
‘I have been in such turmoil,’ Lucy told her and a little sob broke from her. ‘Our marriage was always the desire of our parents—and Mark was so kind and handsome and generous. I loved him from the time I could walk and he put me up on his horse. Of course I loved him, I cared for him deeply...only I wasn’t sure I wished to be his wife. Sometimes he seemed more like a kind brother than a lover.’
‘Yes, I do understand.’ Jenny nodded. ‘It was as if you were on board a chaise with a runaway horse. You had to hang on because you were afraid to jump off.’
‘You do understand.’ Lucy reached for her hand. ‘I am so glad you are here, Jenny. I could never tell Mama or Papa how I feel, because they would be shocked and even angry with me. I am sad and I do miss Mark—but not in the way people think. It sounds wicked of me, but in a way I am relieved that I shall not have to marry—’ She broke off, her hands flying to her face. ‘I am such a wicked girl to have these terrible thoughts.’
‘Dearest Lucy, you are not in the least wicked,’ Jenny assured her and pulled her hands away. ‘You must not feel ashamed, my love. You cared for Mark as a friend and it is as his friend that you mourn him—and as his friend that you will show your respects today.’
‘I have been thinking that people would think me false and horrid if they knew my true feelings...’
‘Some people might not understand, but I know you, Lucy. I know that your heart is true. You did not wish Mark to die and you would have hated to hurt him had he lived—but I think you must have told him the truth. To have married with so many doubts must have made you both unhappy.’
‘Well, I thought the same—and I’m not certain Mark was truly in love with me. I have thought there might be someone else he liked, but because everyone had assumed we should marry for so long he did not wish to let me down.’
‘He might have been relieved had he lived long enough for you to tell him how you felt,’ Jenny said. ‘I did not know your fiancé well, Lucy, for I met him only once, but from what Adam tells me of him he was a very good person.’
‘Mark was wonderful. Everyone adored him. I loved him, Jenny—but not...not in that way.’
‘I perfectly understand.’