Shadows of Doubt

By Evan G Andrew

Set in the Regency period just after the Napoleonic wars, 'Shadows of Doubt,' is the eagerly awaited sequel to 'Shadows in the Night,'
which follows the fortunes of Julia Farraday. A spirited young woman of independent means following the death of her great uncle, Julia receives an invitation to attend a house-party from her confidant at Court, Philip Stratton, at Sharnborough his palatial ancestral home.
There among the guests she meets an acquaintance of Lenore's, the fascinating French mistress of the late Gerald Hamilton, and also present is the debonair Chevalier Alain d'Augusseau, from the French Embassy. Despite the support of the attentive Excise Officer Stephen Wareham, and the neighbouring Wentworth family, Julia gets caught up in a world of conspiracy and intrigue, while her heart becomes caught in 'Shadows of Doubt,' between the safe and familiar, and the dangers of the unknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evan G Andrew
• Release date: May 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476088662

Evan G Andrew

Evan Andrew lives on the North Shore of Auckland, New Zealand and is a widely-travelled historian who enjoys researching his books. An enthusiastic skier, tennis player and gardener, he also enjoys racing and breeding thoroughbreds. He has written several historical romances including The Spanish Woman, a stand-alone adventure story, and Shadows in the Night and Shadows of Doubt which are set in the Regency period after Waterloo. The last two are historical thrillers in which the heroine Julia unknowingly gets caught up between the Bourbon and Bonapartist factions, as well as in romantic entanglements from both sides. He has just finished writing a novel based around the Boxer rebellion in China. Evan works tirelessly to find new ways to promote indie published books.

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Shadows of Doubt

Evan G Andrew

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© 2012 by Evan G Andrew

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Prologue

Paris

17th June 1816

The sun was dazzling as at midday the guns began firing, and continued booming while every house and window shook and rattled with the reverberations.

The sightseers and visitors as well as the Parisians had crammed every roof-top and building to get the best glimpse of the Royal procession. The thirty-six coaches, each drawn by eight cream coloured horses, slowly made their way through the streets lined with troops in their colourful uniforms to the Church of Notre Dame. Draped in blue velvet embroidered with the golden fleur de lis; the porch and steps lined with the Swiss Guards in their mediaeval uniforms, the church had had never looked more magnificent.

Since dawn, its bells had been ringing continually to announce the marriage of the heir to the French throne Prince Charles Ferdinand d’Artois, Duc de Berri, and his bride, the vivacious Princess Caroline Ferdinande of the Two Sicilies.

The seventeen year-old bride, dressed in white satin embroidered with silver lamé, and a flowing veil, was seated in the gold coach beside her thirty-eight year old husband. They waved excitedly to the enormous crowds that cheered them on their way, the noise rising above the cacophony of sound from the bells, and gunfire.

Their marriage had taken place by proxy in April, while the bride was in Naples, and now the final solemnisation of the religious rites was to take place in Paris.

Some cynical Parisians had seen it all before, as it was only two years since Waterloo, and the Bonapartes had also known how to put on a show.

One man watched, and as the carriage passed by, spat vehemently on the ground and elbowed his way out of the cheering throng, his face contorted by hatred.

A true Bonapartist, one of many still loyal to the exiled Emperor now on St Helena, he determined on a plan to end the Bourbon dynasty’s hope for the future, no matter what the cost.

Chapter One

October 1818

Julia looked at the envelope in her hands and for a moment time stood still. She did not need to look at the seal on the back or use her paper knife to reveal its contents to know whom it was from.

She smiled ruefully as she remembered another time, and another place when they had been such good friends, and her dreams of … well that was well and truly over now.

Philip Stratton, Viscount Illingham was now a married man, to the beautiful and wealthy Arabella Wetherby, free of the financial troubles that had pursued him, and able to live the life that his birthright entitled him to.

Julia shrugged, and with her knife slit the sealing wax and read the contents inside. After reading it twice, she sat and looked thoughtfully out of the window at the golden leaves of the elm tree, as they fluttered away in the October breeze and absentmindedly stroked the top of Flush’s head as he lay beside her chair.

It was an invitation. Philip and Arabella would very much like her to join them for their very first house party at Sharnborough at the beginning of November. Well, she could refuse of course, but…

Molly the parlour maid popped her head around the corner. ‘If you please ma’am, Miss Blake is coming up the driveway.’

Drat, thought Julia, though she was too well mannered to say it out loud. Martha Blake was the last person she wanted to see right now, and she carefully put Philip’s invitation away in a drawer. The spinster daughter of a tiresome widow, Martha’s inquisitiveness and her unshakeable belief in her own infallible opinions made her at times a difficult companion.

There would be no way though of not seeing her, and in all fairness Martha had been so attentive after Gerald Hamilton’s death, and her treatment at the hands of the smugglers, that she felt an immediate pang of guilt at her initial annoyance. Why, even the fact that Stephen Wareham had shown such marked preference for Julia, and now went riding with her as often as possible between his duties as an Excise officer, had not appeared to distress Martha, as much as Julia would have thought.

‘Ah, dear Julia, I felt sure I would find you at home.’ Martha Blake seemed to enter the room like a whirlwind, as Flush rose up stiffly, wagging his tail to meet her. She pecked her hostess on the cheek as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet and quickly removed her pelisse, all the while talking non-stop.

‘You are the first to know the news, the new vicar has arrived, a Mr Holgate, and…’ here Martha lowered her voice as if to impart some privileged information, ‘it is so sad, he is a widower.’

She sat bright-eyed watching and waiting to see how Julia would react to this fascinating piece of news, and seeing that there was no active response she added, ‘And he is quite young, not above thirty-five, at least.’

‘Well,’ Julia answered lamely, ‘I’m sure he will be made most welcome by his parishioners.’

‘Now we are out of mourning for dear papa,’ Martha announced, ‘mama will invite him for tea. Whether he has any children, I do not know, for it would appear that at the moment he is alone at the vicarage, apart from the housekeeper and maids. Of course, after Reverend Talbot… oh,’ she put her hand to her mouth in agitation. ‘Oh Julia I did not mean to bring up that wicked man…’

‘Nonsense, Martha,’ Julia reassured her. ‘That is all in the past, and we must put it behind us. Mr Holgate I am sure will be a much better addition to the parish, and is sorely needed at the moment.’

‘Oh yes,’ Martha answered enthusiastically, ‘that is so true…’ and rambled on in her usual tiresome way while Julia gave a slight shudder at the memory of Talbot, who had managed to kill himself while in prison awaiting his trial for smuggling and murder. The official version was a sudden heart attack, but the whispers around the village said… poison.

All too vividly she could recall that dreadful night just two months gone when she had been captured and interrogated by Talbot who planned, along with Wyatt, to kill her; then she was rescued so she thought by Gerald, only to find to her horror that he too was involved with the smugglers. Thankfully, Stephen and the dragoons had arrived just in time, and in the ensuing fight Gerald had been killed. She kept telling herself that it was all for the best, as she could not have borne the thought of him standing trial like Talbot.

‘I shall tell you all about the new vicar after I have met him,’ Martha said earnestly, and then proceeded to talk about the Wentworth family’s imminent return to Winchelsea from London.

This Julia already knew, as she had attended Susan’s wedding to Toby Kinston the previous month, and had stayed with the family at their London house for the event.

She felt a glow of pleasure at this; though she knew Susan would still be away on her honeymoon and she would miss her. The lively company of Lady Wentworth and Caroline would compensate.

Finally, Martha made her farewell, and Julia went back to pondering on her invitation to Sharnborough and the thought of seeing the newly wedded Philip and Arabella.

***

Mrs Knight the housekeeper sighed heavily as she lowered herself into the chair. Julia knew instinctively that this was a sign that there were further problems with the cook. This had been building up for some time and Julia knew from her training at Miss Anderton’s Academy that this domestic crisis must be dealt with at once.

The curse of it all was that Hannah Brown was a very good cook. To lose her was going to cause the absence of delectable dishes, for the entire household. Not that it was a large establishment. Apart from Mrs Knight, Smithers, Julia’s dresser, there was old Ridges, who was both butler and footman combined, and Molly the parlour maid, Hetty the scullery maid; Annie the under maid; Betsy the new chambermaid, Willy the boot boy; Geraghty the coachman, who had taken over the garden and stables from Wyatt, and Jimmy; Molly’s brother, who assisted him as groom and stableboy.

‘I fear it is her time of life ma’am,’ Mrs Knight informed Julia. ‘Attacks of the vapours, weeping for no reason, dizziness, and nervous agitation, as well as finding fault with everything and everyone. She is in a very low spirits all the time, which she never was before.’

‘Has Mrs Brown family hereabouts?’ Julia inquired.

‘No, not here. She has an older sister married to a merchant in Bristol, who she writes to, and speaks of often. Other than that, I know of no other family.’

‘Hmmn.’ Julia thought for a moment and twisted the amethyst ring on her finger. ‘Do you think we could manage if Mrs Brown went on holiday to her sister in Bristol, for perhaps a month?’ Without waiting for a reply Julia continued. ‘The situation cannot continue as it is. She has been a good cook and a long time here in this position. To replace her is not going to be easy. Or do you have any suggestions yourself, regarding this?’

Mrs Knight shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure what you have suggested would be received gratefully by Mrs Brown, and perhaps a change of scene and a rest will help her. As for how we will manage,’ here, she straightened up in her chair and unexpectedly announced, ‘I will take over the cooking in her absence, and Annie will assist me.’

Julia could hardly believe her ears. ‘Are you quite sure, Mrs Knight, that it won’t be too much for you? It would be perfect of course…’

‘Indeed ma’am, I can see no reason why not. My menus will be simpler perhaps than Mrs Brown’s, and providing you are not planning on any formal entertaining, and I have Annie to assist me, as she is already helping cook, I’m sure we will manage very well.’

‘Oh, Mrs Knight.’ Julia leaned forward and clasped the older woman’s hand gratefully. ‘This is most generous of you, and it will not be forgotten, I assure you.’

Mrs Knight nodded her head, just as graciously as Queen Charlotte when she was in a benign mood. Julia felt a surge of relief at what she hoped was the end of a tedious drama.

‘I will speak to her,’ Mrs Knight said soberly, ‘and will naturally inform you immediately of her departure for her… most generous holiday.’

After going through a few minor household items, and a brief discussion on the arrival of the new vicar, the interview was over and each lady set off on their appointed tasks in a much happier state of mind.

***

It was a gusty autumn day when, later in the week, the newly promoted Captain Stephen Wareham rode up the drive and around to the stable yard where Julia was waiting for him. She had received his note the previous day, that he would be there at eleven, and that they could go riding. Geraghty and Jimmy had Athene brushed to silken perfection, and she seemed to Julia who was standing on the mounting block to be exceedingly frisky and keen to take off.

‘It’s the wind ma’am. Horses - dang it all, keep still will yaw - they don’t like it,’ Geraghty proclaimed loudly as the chestnut mare whirled around as he tried to straighten her mane. Jimmy grinned at Julia as he hung on to the bridle, while Geraghty muttered under his breath at the capriciousness of his equine charge, and Julia looked up gratefully at Stephen’s arrival.

Flush wandered over to him as he dismounted and sniffed expectantly, only to be rewarded with a casual pat. The dog looked crestfallen; once again he had failed to find his late master.

‘I see you are all ready Julia. I hope I have not kept you waiting?’ His face was as ever solemn, but there was admiration in his eyes as he took her hand and held it briefly.

Julia was conscious she was looking her best. When she had visited London for Susan’s wedding, one of her first tasks had been to procure a new riding habit. To be sure her original grey outfit was sadly old fashioned, but it was more than that. It was what she had worn for her afternoon rides with Gerald, when she was falling in love with him, and somehow it didn’t seem right to be wearing it when with Stephen.

The dark green habit, of modish cut and white stock, with matching hat and cascading ribbon behind, suited her very well, of that she was aware, as he lifted her from the mounting block into the side saddle as Jimmy passed her the reins.

She smoothed the full skirt along Athene’s hindquarters to give a better effect as the mare daintily pranced forward, her mouth chewing on the bit in anticipation of the gallop to come.

Stephen swung aboard his bay gelding and together they proceeded along the drive, Jimmy behind them on his cob, watched by Geraghty, and Ridges who had come out, holding protectively on to Flush, to stop the old dog from following them.

Julia cast a sidelong glance at the stiff, laconic man beside her. So different, so very different from the volatile, wayward Gerald, who had given her new-found confidence; who had flirted with her, challenged her, and taken her heart.

Athene danced over the shingle in nervous expectation of the exercise ahead. Julia gave a grim smile. So many memories. All she had left of Gerald was Athene, which he had loaned her really, but his creditors never knew that. When they swarmed over his establishment like locusts, stripping the house of its contents, she had, like the servants, made no mention of Athene. As for dear old Flush, she had begged Gerald’s French mistress, the fascinating Lenore, to give him to her, as no one else would have wanted the old golden retriever. To Julia he was another link with the man who had bewitched her.

Julia became aware that Stephen was talking to her, his eyes ever serious. But then a sudden burst of sunlight that beamed out from beneath the scudding clouds prompting him to spontaneously ask, ‘Shall we ride along the coast, or would you prefer to go inland?’

‘Inland, I think.’

The coast had been the route she had usually taken with Gerald, and somehow she could not rid herself of a sense of reliving painful memories by riding there with Stephen.

They started off at a canter and when they reached the flat pastures they gave the horses their heads and galloped furiously for half a mile, until they settled down to a steady trot.

‘Have the Wentworths returned from London yet,’ he asked casually.

‘Not that I am aware. I’m sure they will send me a note on their arrival at the Hall. Caroline is bound to be missing Susan so much, that she will be quite disconsolate, which for her is quite unusual,’ and Julia gave a quizzical smile at the thought of pert, pretty Caroline, without her more subdued elder sister.

‘Martha Blake paid me a visit on Tuesday, with the news that our new Vicar, Mr Holgate, has taken up residence at the vicarage.’

‘Hmmm,’ was the only response she received, while he looked straight ahead as if avoiding her eyes.

She could not resist a gentle tease. ‘Martha’s mama is going to invite the new vicar to tea, now they are out of mourning. Perhaps you may be invited as well?’

He threw her an annoyed look, and seeing the laughter in her eyes, had the grace to laugh. ‘I’ll be damned if I intend to go to tea with the new vicar, however worthy he may be. I’m far too busy with my Excise duties to be socialising with widows and their daughters. No, Julia, I know you are trying to tease me, and it will not do, you know, I refuse to be taken in.’ This with a grin, which immediately took ten years off his age, and made him an endearing boy.

Julia laughed. ‘It is not me you will have to convince, but Martha and Mrs Blake. So, I am merely warning you in advance.’

‘Nonsense.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘I have not seen Miss Blake for some time, nor her mama.’

‘Oh, why is that.’ Julia asked innocently.

‘I think you know the answer to that,’ he said looking pointedly ahead.

For a moment she was tempted to further tease him, but on seeing how uncomfortable he’d become decided to desist.

After all since that dreadful August night, he had been most supportive and attentive towards her, and she had felt indebted to his thoughtfulness. Moreover, although the gossip had been that Martha Blake had set her cap at him, he had certainly never encouraged the young woman.

Wisely, he had not pressed his attentions too obviously on Julia, though she could not be unaware of his tenderness towards her. He was not a flirt like Gerald, but was of a totally different disposition, which was a good thing, and yet…

For a moment she tried to picture Gerald beside her, but the image would not come, his face was as elusive as a dream, and she felt suddenly bereft.

To change the subject she announced, ‘I have had an invitation from Lord Illingham and his wife to stay at Sharnborough for a house party, next month.’

‘That will be most pleasant for you Julia. The change of air will do you good.’

Julia smiled to herself. He was as ever considerate and thoughtful for her well-being, and of course did not know that she had once had a tendresse for Philip Illingham. Certainly, he did not ask how long she would be away, or say that he would miss seeing her, on their occasional rides together when his duties permitted.

They had reached the village of Icklesham, which had been a haven for smugglers, and Stephen’s jaw set in a grim line as they approached. As an Excise officer he was looked on askant in some quarters, and Julia decided it might be more tactful to return to Winchelsea, than risk having a stone thrown at them by some young ruffian.

They arrived back at the house just before a threatening shower finally broke. As Geraghty and Jimmy led the steaming horses away to cool off, Julia was met by Ridges with Flush by his side.

She patted the dog’s head as she went into the morning room, and thought how appropriate that genial old Ridges, who had known Gerald as a boy, had become so fond of Flush and happily exercised him. At least, she thought contentedly, while she was at Sharnborough the