Chapter 140:
Support
Lady Constance took the Baron Lensdown roughly by the arm. “You will talk with me now.”
“Where’s my wife?” He asked calmly, breaking free of her grasp.
“She’s been taken to a room where she’ll spend the night. By the way, you’ll be expected to join her.”
“With her dressed in the cook’s clothes?” Lensdown shook his head. “I find her company difficult enough to withstand when she’s properly dressed.” Lensdown sighed. “I think another bit of brandy is in order.”
“No.” Constance hissed. “You will not put me off any longer.”
“Connie, you surely understand that I couldn’t talk with you in the kitchens while my wife was in the larder changing her clothes with the help of the cook and the scullery maid.”
“You’re not in the kitchens any longer. You’re comfortably accommodated in the Duke’s library. Your wife is on the other side of the house. You have no excuse now.”
“I don’ need an excuse to not speak with you, Constance.”
“Victor!” Constance snapped.
“Say your part, Connie, and be done with it. I’ve a splitting headache, really, and other things to preoccupy me.”
“Doesn’t the well-being of your daughter preoccupy you?”
“We don’t know that the little beast is my daughter.”
“Who else’s, then?” Lady Constance moaned.
“Who knows, Connie?”
“You’re the beast, Victor.” Constance snarled.
“I’m not the one who just murdered his mother.”
“What?”
“I asked you earlier if you were the person responsible for your mother’s death. You didn’t deny it.”
“I didn’t see the need to respond to such a ridiculous statement.” Constance sniffed.
“If not, you, then who?”
“Mother was not well-liked.” Constance replied. “Any number of people…”
“Such as you.” Victor interrupted. “You had the most cause. She was—as cruel as she was to almost everyone—cruelest to you, Connie. Not only that, you stand to inherit…”
“Nothing.” Constance shook her head. “I stand to inherit nothing. Have you forgotten the entail?”
“Still, you’re not left a pauper.”
“However, I was better off enduring her barbs and jabs.”
“Hmmmph.” Victor snorted.
“That’s why you owe me.” Constance bellowed.
“Lower your voice, woman.” Victor spat. “And, what do I owe you?”
“Support, Victor. Or shall I go to Gertrude and tell her…”
“She already knows.” Victor shook his head.
“About the governess, too?”
“Of course.” Victor laughed.
“What about the footman?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“I know about you and that Scotch footman.” Constance smiled. “I also know that you and he are colluding with one another.”
The baron was silent.
“I also know that you’re conspiring with Miss Barrett, the governess. Isn’t that a dangerous bit of treachery?”
“You tire me, Constance.”
“Since you’re weary, Victor, let me just inform you of what else I know.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Victor sniffed.
“Very well.” Constance grinned. “I won’t bother you with it.”
“How kind of you.” Victor nodded.
“I’ll just go upstairs and tell the Duke.”
“Tell him what, you little shrew?” Victor said drolly.
“That I, too, was nearby all those many years ago when a young Victor Geddes—long before he was the Baron Lensdown—pushed a man to his death from the turret of Grange Molliner. The young man—I can still see his pale face and strawberry blond hair—was the cousin of Finlay Donnan—your footman friend. His name was Roger Barrett. Curiously—somehow related to the Duke’s governess. Now, how could that be?”
“Be careful, Constance.”
“But, I am.” Lady Constance grinned. “You see, I also know something else. Mother was great friends with the Duchess of Fallbridge. They were very close. So close, in fact, that the Duchess invited Mother here to assist her with an illness—an illness which turned out to be the arrival of a bastard child—a girl. Ellen. She was raised by her uncle and aunt—her cousins were passed off as her brothers. And, now, she’s here—your former lover. A brother, and a sister—you are thorough.”
“I invite you to silence yourself, Connie.” Victor snarled.
“I will in a moment.” Constance sighed. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. But, there’s one bit that will surprise you. The man you ‘killed’—Roger. He’s not dead. He’s very much alive and quite mad. The Duke pays for his care—just because he’s such a kind, generous man.”
“You lie.”
“That would be you, dear.” Lady Constance shrugged. “Now, I shan’t bore you any further with things you already know. However, I’m sure the Duke would be most interested to be informed of all of this…”
The baron grabbed Lady Constance by the throat.
“Go ahead and choke me,” Constance gasped. “It won’t stop me. I’ve written it all in a letter which will be delivered to the Duke upon my death. You shan’t win this time, Victor.”
He released the woman.
“What do you want from me?” He hissed.
“I’ve already told you—support. And for my daughter to have a name.” Constance grinned as she rubbed her throat.
“Anything.” Victor shook his head.
“And, one more thing.” Constance scowled.
“What?”
“I want you to confess to killing my mother.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-139 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 141.
Lady Constance took the Baron Lensdown roughly by the arm. “You will talk with me now.”
“Where’s my wife?” He asked calmly, breaking free of her grasp.
“She’s been taken to a room where she’ll spend the night. By the way, you’ll be expected to join her.”
“With her dressed in the cook’s clothes?” Lensdown shook his head. “I find her company difficult enough to withstand when she’s properly dressed.” Lensdown sighed. “I think another bit of brandy is in order.”
“No.” Constance hissed. “You will not put me off any longer.”
“Connie, you surely understand that I couldn’t talk with you in the kitchens while my wife was in the larder changing her clothes with the help of the cook and the scullery maid.”
“You’re not in the kitchens any longer. You’re comfortably accommodated in the Duke’s library. Your wife is on the other side of the house. You have no excuse now.”
“I don’ need an excuse to not speak with you, Constance.”
“Victor!” Constance snapped.
“Say your part, Connie, and be done with it. I’ve a splitting headache, really, and other things to preoccupy me.”
“Doesn’t the well-being of your daughter preoccupy you?”
“We don’t know that the little beast is my daughter.”
“Who else’s, then?” Lady Constance moaned.
“Who knows, Connie?”
“You’re the beast, Victor.” Constance snarled.
“I’m not the one who just murdered his mother.”
“What?”
“I asked you earlier if you were the person responsible for your mother’s death. You didn’t deny it.”
“I didn’t see the need to respond to such a ridiculous statement.” Constance sniffed.
“If not, you, then who?”
“Mother was not well-liked.” Constance replied. “Any number of people…”
“Such as you.” Victor interrupted. “You had the most cause. She was—as cruel as she was to almost everyone—cruelest to you, Connie. Not only that, you stand to inherit…”
“Nothing.” Constance shook her head. “I stand to inherit nothing. Have you forgotten the entail?”
“Still, you’re not left a pauper.”
“However, I was better off enduring her barbs and jabs.”
“Hmmmph.” Victor snorted.
“That’s why you owe me.” Constance bellowed.
“Lower your voice, woman.” Victor spat. “And, what do I owe you?”
“Support, Victor. Or shall I go to Gertrude and tell her…”
“She already knows.” Victor shook his head.
“About the governess, too?”
“Of course.” Victor laughed.
“What about the footman?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“I know about you and that Scotch footman.” Constance smiled. “I also know that you and he are colluding with one another.”
The baron was silent.
“I also know that you’re conspiring with Miss Barrett, the governess. Isn’t that a dangerous bit of treachery?”
“You tire me, Constance.”
“Since you’re weary, Victor, let me just inform you of what else I know.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Victor sniffed.
“Very well.” Constance grinned. “I won’t bother you with it.”
“How kind of you.” Victor nodded.
“I’ll just go upstairs and tell the Duke.”
“Tell him what, you little shrew?” Victor said drolly.
“That I, too, was nearby all those many years ago when a young Victor Geddes—long before he was the Baron Lensdown—pushed a man to his death from the turret of Grange Molliner. The young man—I can still see his pale face and strawberry blond hair—was the cousin of Finlay Donnan—your footman friend. His name was Roger Barrett. Curiously—somehow related to the Duke’s governess. Now, how could that be?”
“Be careful, Constance.”
“But, I am.” Lady Constance grinned. “You see, I also know something else. Mother was great friends with the Duchess of Fallbridge. They were very close. So close, in fact, that the Duchess invited Mother here to assist her with an illness—an illness which turned out to be the arrival of a bastard child—a girl. Ellen. She was raised by her uncle and aunt—her cousins were passed off as her brothers. And, now, she’s here—your former lover. A brother, and a sister—you are thorough.”
“I invite you to silence yourself, Connie.” Victor snarled.
“I will in a moment.” Constance sighed. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. But, there’s one bit that will surprise you. The man you ‘killed’—Roger. He’s not dead. He’s very much alive and quite mad. The Duke pays for his care—just because he’s such a kind, generous man.”
“You lie.”
“That would be you, dear.” Lady Constance shrugged. “Now, I shan’t bore you any further with things you already know. However, I’m sure the Duke would be most interested to be informed of all of this…”
The baron grabbed Lady Constance by the throat.
“Go ahead and choke me,” Constance gasped. “It won’t stop me. I’ve written it all in a letter which will be delivered to the Duke upon my death. You shan’t win this time, Victor.”
He released the woman.
“What do you want from me?” He hissed.
“I’ve already told you—support. And for my daughter to have a name.” Constance grinned as she rubbed her throat.
“Anything.” Victor shook his head.
“And, one more thing.” Constance scowled.
“What?”
“I want you to confess to killing my mother.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-139 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 141.
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