The Haut Ton - those modish people who live at their ease

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

 

Mr Formby swallowed the revolting decoction that the doctor had given him and shuddered. This damned case was giving him gyp, and his stomach was suffering from it. It was also making him ill-tempered and far less patient than usual, something that Mrs Formby had been rather vocal about this morning. Hence his trip to the doctor. Maybe if he could stop his stomach griping, he’d be able to think clearer and solve this blasted riddle.

On the surface of things, it looked clear enough. Lord Ashwicke had killed Lord Todd and then Martin Snyder. Except that it was too easy, and, in his opinion, too unlikely. Firstly, it was plain enough that Ashwicke was a lousy shot. Todd had been killed at close range, like shooting fish in a barrel, really, so not such a stretch to think it possible. But whilst he was very willing to believe Lord Ashwicke killed Todd in a fit of fury after seeing his beloved beaten in such a way, killing the valet in cold blood … that he couldn’t swallow.

It took determination and a certain amount of sangfroid for an act like that, or the strong desire to protect a loved one. But it was only Ashwicke who had been in his sights until Snyder had died, so Lady Todd had been safe enough. Somehow, the inspector didn’t buy that Ashwicke had killed Snyder to save his own skin when it was likely that a decent lawyer could get him off in any case. Hanging a duke was no easy task, no matter the evidence, and the valet’s testimony was unlikely enough from a man whose character was not that of an upstanding citizen. The watch was a damning piece, too, but once again, the word of a young varlet like Frankie Lightfingers was hardly going to stand against some clever lawyer. Perhaps the idea of such a dreadful scandal - and it would be the scandal of the decade - perhaps that was enough for the duke to do it, to save the family name.

But Formby didn’t buy it.

Hearing that Lady Todd was a crack shot, however … now that made a lot of sense.

If Lord Ashwicke had killed her father to keep her safe, it might be that the young woman had felt a debt towards the fellow. Perhaps, despite her protestations, she did love him? Or perhaps it was simply that she’d found a nice plump pigeon and a soft landing and wanted to ensure she kept them? Either way, he felt certain that Lord Todd’s daughter had the kind determination to do something as unsavoury as assassinate a man who could cause Lord Ashwicke trouble, no matter what her motivation.

That the blasted woman was not around to be interviewed had vexed him not inconsiderably. It seemed all of his potential witnesses and persons of interest had a habit of up and disappearing.

So it was fair to say that the inspector was … just a little peeved.

“What?” he barked as a knock was heard on his office door. Most of his men had been wise enough to keep a low profile over the past few days, but there was always someone fool enough to try his patience.

To his surprise, Constable Greenly stuck his head around the door, grinning broadly.

“You’d best have some good news to match that idiotic expression, lad,” Formby warned him as the young man’s expression held.

“That I ‘ave, sir. Lord Ashwicke is back. I ‘ad a fellow watching the place, and ‘e’s just stopped by to say they arrived home not ten minutes since.”

Formby stared at his constable for a moment before leaping to his feet and grabbing his hat and overcoat. “Why the devil didn’t you say so?” he yelled, catching sight of the man rolling his eyes as Formby hustled him out of the door in search of his quarry.

***

“Your grace, Lady Todd.”

Keziah watched with interest as Ash smiled at the snooty butler who greeted them with his usual formal deference, the footmen taking care of their hats and coats under his beady and watchful eye.

“Good day, Grant,” Ash replied, still sounding in remarkably good spirits in the circumstances. “And actually … it’s Lady Ashwicke.”

Grant froze, his eyes growing wide for just a fraction of a second before his usual, wooden expression settled back into place.

“Indeed, your grace? In which case, may I be the first to wish you happy.”

Privately, Keziah thought he didn’t wish anything of the sort. She had no doubt at all that a stickler like Grant would not approve her new position any more than the rest of the household. She also felt the strong desire to keep an eye on the fellow after Molly’s words, just as much as he, no doubt, would be keeping an eye on her.

“You may,” Ash replied, still smiling and reaching out to take Keziah’s hand. She felt no disinclination to reject it, either. Facing his grandmother, mother, and sister was not something she was looking forward to. Any show of solidarity, she was only too eager to cling to.

“Where is everyone?” he demanded, and now she thought she could sense the tension in him, and also the desire to get any scenes of a confrontational nature out of the way as soon as was possible.

Apparently, Ash had left a note with his valet, detailing his intentions to marry Keziah, to be given to his grandmother forty eight hours after they had left.

Once the deed had been well and truly done.

“I believe Lady Anne and Lady Hannah are in the yellow salon, your grace,” the butler replied. Lady Margaret’s whereabouts were quickly revealed, however, as she came down the stairs at that moment. That the information contained in his note had not been well received was only too obvious.

“Grandmother,” Ash replied, inclining his head a little.

Lady Margaret gave the butler a cool look and he melted away, leaving them alone.

“You’re a bigger fool that I realised, Felix,” she said, her voice as hard and insulting as the look in her eyes.

“He prefers Ash, Grandmama,” Keziah replied with equal animosity, startling herself with her own indignation at the dowager’s words. “And I’ll thank you not to speak to my husband in such a way. Just because his choice is not always yours, that does not make him a fool.”

Lady Margaret made a disparaging noise as she walked towards them. “But of course you would say that, as it suits you to have married a fool, no doubt. They’re so much more … biddable.”

Keziah gasped. She’d been prepared for hostility, but such an open attack towards her and an insult to Ash, at the moment they’d stepped over the threshold, too, was more than she’d bargained for.

“That will be enough!”

Both women started in surprise: the command behind the words was something quite unfamiliar to either of them, coming as it did from Lord Ashwicke.

“Grandmother, you may berate and belittle me as much as you wish, I am used to it, after all. But you will not speak to my wife in such a manner. She is the Duchess of Chartley, and no matter your opinion, you will treat her with the deference that she is due.”

Keziah watched as these words hit Lady Margaret with all the force that a protective and loving husband could bring to bear. The surprise in the woman’s eyes was only too obvious, though she made efforts to disguise it.

Her face hardened once more. “And if I don’t?” she demanded, the desire to goad Ash glittering in those green eyes, so like her grandson’s and yet so very different.

Keziah squeezed his hand, willing him to understand that she stood beside him, she would not allow his family to bully him any longer, as that was so clearly what he’d always endured.

“If you don’t …”Ash hesitated a moment, and Keziah could tell this was the last thing he wanted, but that he was determined and would not be swayed. “I shall have Hume prepared and inform the staff there that you will be staying indefinitely.”

Lady Margaret stilled, staring at him. “You would banish me to Scotland?” she replied, her voice a deal quieter now. Keziah had the feeling that Ash had truly shaken her.

Ash clearly felt the same as he sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. He looked tired, Keziah thought, and she worried at it. She wanted to save him from such stress and confrontation. He was such a placid, good-hearted fellow, and he deserved none of the strife she had brought to him. Though clearly his grandmother had always been a tyrant.

“Not willingly,” he said at length. “I would have you stay here as long as you desired to, but understand this … You will not upset Keziah and you will not manipulate and bully her as you have me.” He paused then and cast Keziah a look of such adoration that she felt her heart clench. “Not that I think you could, she’s far stronger than I have ever been.”

Keziah opened her mouth to protest, but he squeezed her fingers and gave her a look that stilled her tongue. He turned back to Lady Margaret.

“Try and come between us, in any manner, and you will find yourself in a carriage heading north before you know what has happened.”

Keziah stared at Lady Margaret, who was in turn regarding Ash as though she’d never seen him before. She could not read the expression in the woman’s eyes, did not have the slightest idea of her thoughts, but at length she tilted her head a little, acknowledging his words.

“As you wish, your grace.”

Keziah was unsure if her words were mocking him, or if his title had truly been used as a sign of respect. Whichever, Lady Margaret was not a woman to be dismissed. Perhaps she would heed Ash’s command and not be openly hostile, but that did not guarantee she would not work in a more subtle but just as damaging style behind their backs.

Keziah didn’t trust her an inch.

The immediate storm having passed, Keziah almost let out a breath of relief, but was saved the effort as the salon door opened and Lady Anne and her daughter came out.

They froze, staring at Keziah. Hannah’s expression was easy enough to read, and that she somehow blamed Keziah for all that had befallen them was obvious.

Lady Anne was rather harder to judge. To do her credit, she moved forward and curtsied to Keziah. “I wish you very happy, my dear,” she said, though her eyes glittered rather too brightly.

Keziah hoped that the words were sincere, she rather thought they were, especially judging on the approval in her husband’s eyes, but she wasn’t prepared to take anyone in this family at face value just yet. Still she returned the smile and thanked her new mother-in-law.

“I--I …” Lady Anne stammered, though she was still smiling, a little at least. “I just wish you weren’t s-so beautiful.”

Keziah, whose father had often pointed out that she was passable, but no great beauty, and had not been in society to have it proved otherwise, was rather startled by this remark. Especially coming from one who she could see was quite extraordinarily lovely. She could certainly see where Ash got his looks from.

Hannah, however, who was in no mood to make peace, quickly shattered any fragile entente between them.

“I hate you,” she said, her voice vibrating with fury. “I don’t want you here. You’ve ruined everything.”

“Hannah, dearest,” Lady Margaret said, her voice cool and reproving. “Do you not think we could retire somewhere rather less public for this discussion. There is no need to give the servants anything further to gossip of, surely they have enough after recent weeks.”

But Hannah was deaf to such admonishments, even from the terrifying woman, who, according to Ash, Hannah feared even more than he did.

“Everything was perfect before you came,” she raged in fury. “Thomas was going to marry me.”

As much as Keziah disliked this appalling scene, she found she had no hatred for Hannah, she could only pity her. That she truly believed, even now, that Lord Todd would have married her just went to show how truly naive she really was. She would have been easy prey for one as glib and handsome as her father. However, it appeared that Keziah was no longer the centre of this dawning fury, as Lady Anne had taken exception to her words and pointed out that Lord Todd had only asked for her hand in marriage, not Hannah’s, and that the girl was a fool if she believed she’d been anything more than a pleasant distraction for the man.

The scene quickly went downhill, as might have been foreseen, but before Ash could do anything about it, they were aware of Grant coming upon the scene and clearing his throat with an expression of alarm.

“The bell for the front door, your grace,” he said, by way of explanation as they all fell into a brittle silence. The atmosphere grew tauter still as Grant opened the door and announced in his sonorous voice, “Inspector Formby and Constable Greenly, your grace.”