However, it was necessary to veer away from these questions. The less she said, the better. “We have offered a tip or two, but they have told us to not get in their way,” Amy laughed.
“The police are very cautious about allowing interference.” Mrs. Miles appeared sorry that Amy had no more information to share. Lady Carlisle seemed to have lost interest in the conversation entirely and instead studied the group of men that had congregated on the other side of the room.
William stood with Mr. Miles, Mr. Harris, Lord Carlisle, and Mr. Colbert. As she studied the men, Amy’s eyes were caught by a deep-red gown flying past. She grinned at Aunt Margaret, who in turned winked at her as she floated by in Lord Pembroke’s arms.
’Twas a good thing Papa wasn’t present, because he had never given up on marrying off his younger sister. Had he seen Aunt Margaret with Lord Pembroke, Papa would have been hauling the poor man over to the corner to negotiate marriage contracts.
The music came to an end, and the dancers made their way to the refreshment table or over to the French doors for a bit of fresh air. Amy, Mrs. Miles, and Lady Carlisle crossed the room to join the gentlemen.
Eloise had not attended that week because she was entertaining her cousin, Mr. Burkitt. He was a charming man whom Amy had spent time with before. He joked that dances caused him to itch, so he and Eloise were off to the theater. Amy was sure he was afraid to have the marriage-minded mamas dragging their daughters to him. He was a very confirmed bachelor.
“May I request the honor of the next dance, Lady Amy?” Mr. Harris bowed in her direction.
Apparently, Mr. Harris was going to be a permanent part of their life in Bath. Although she no longer wished to physically harm the man, he was not one of her favorite people. He seemed to have formed a friendship with Mr. Miles that she found interesting. Since she now knew that Mr. Miles was involved in selling illegal opium, it was quite notable that the two men had become such fast friends.
Perhaps Mr. Harris was a new supplier for Mr. Miles, with Mr. St. Vincent dead? That led her to another line of questioning. If Mr. Miles thought what he had paid Mr. St. Vincent was too much for the drugs he in turn sold, would he have murdered Mr. St. Vincent to be able to cut a better deal with whoever inherited the shipping company?
On the other hand, perhaps the new owner would not want to take up an illegal trade at all. Unless Mr. Miles had known Mr. Harris before now.
Now that was an interesting idea.
The evening passed in pleasant conversation, with a few hardy dances and a light supper at the end. Feeling quite happy with herself, Amy left on William’s arm and headed to his carriage. Aunt Margaret and her escort had disappeared more than an hour before, which had Amy grinning.
And speculating.
As she and William walked from the building to where the carriages were all lined up awaiting their passengers, her eye was caught by Mr. Miles and Lady Carlisle in a deep discussion that appeared not at all friendly.
Mrs. Miles stood by, looking oblivious as her son and Lady Carlisle argued. When the pair noticed several people watching them, Mr. Miles made one final comment, then turned and stormed off. After a few steps, he quickly returned for his mother and nearly dragged the poor woman to their carriage.
Lord Carlisle exited the building then, looked around the group, and joined his wife, who looked none too happy. With a brief word to her, he took her arm, and they headed toward their carriage.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” William asked as he assisted Amy into the coach. He climbed in after her and settled on the seat across.
Amy pulled her wrap closer, a sudden chill overtaking her. “I have no idea. I can’t imagine what the two of them would have to disagree about so vehemently. Especially in public.”
Slowly the line of vehicles rolled away from the building as she and William recounted the evening and she chastised him for not dancing with her.
“My dear Lady Amy, you were a popular partner this evening. Every time a new number started and I looked for you, you had already been taken.”
Amy sniffed and raised her chin in the air, trying her best to hide her grin. “Perhaps the next time you could walk a bit faster toward me?”
He bowed. “Next time I shall race to your side.”
They both laughed, just as a splintering sound echoed in the carriage. Immediately the vehicle began to sway. Amy was thrown against the wall, and as William reached out for her, he was tossed to the floor, where they both landed in a heap.
The carriage leaned to one side, and Amy reached up to catch the strap. “What was that?”
William grabbed her around the waist, hauled her back onto the seat, and held on tight. “I would guess one of the wheels snapped.”
The sound of the driver’s shouts to the horses surpassed the noise from the vehicle bumping along. The carriage slowed and then came to an abrupt stop. Thank goodness William still held her tightly or she would have been tossed to the floor again. Her whole body shook, and she had to force her stomach not to bring up her last meal.
She turned and looked at him, suddenly feeling light-headed. “What happened?”
Before he could answer, black dots appeared in her eyes and she slumped against his body.
CHAPTER 21
Amy attempted to swat away the annoying insect that kept tapping her cheek, but she was unable to lift her arm, which felt quite heavy.
“Amy. Talk to me, Amy. Come on, love, wake up.” William’s voice, raspy for some reason, filtered into her brain just as she realized she was lying on his lap. She quickly sat up and groaned, grabbing her aching head.
“Thank God.” William rested his chin on her head.
“What happened?” She looked up at him and braced herself for bad news, given the serious expression on his face.
“You passed out just as the carriage came to a stop.”
Then she remembered. The carriage wheel had broken, and she and William had been tossed around a bit. Her shoulder hurt, and she was certain her body would be black-and-blue in parts tomorrow.
The door to the carriage stood open, and William’s driver stepped up to the opening. “It’s like I thought, milord. The back wheel snapped. We’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Yes, I agree, it could have been quite serious.” William moved to exit the seriously tilting vehicle. It shifted again, and Amy squealed and grasped the edges of the seat.
William sat back down. “John, reach in and take Lady Amy’s hand and help her out. I’m afraid my weight might cause more damage to our situation if I climb out first.”
The driver reached in and took Amy’s hand. “Careful, milady. Just go slowly.”
She slid gently forward on the seat and took the man’s hand, then stopped and held her breath when the carriage moved again. When it settled, she took another step, and the driver mumbled an apology, grasped her around the waist, and lifted her from the carriage.
Once she was on her feet, she was able to see the damage from the broken wheel. It was a blessing they hadn’t been killed. In the meantime, William had exited the vehicle and stood alongside her. “It could have been worse.”
“I agree.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered. William took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She immediately felt the warmth and inhaled the spicy scent from his soap.
“John, fetch us a hackney so I can get Lady Amy home, and then we will arrange to have the carriage brought to the mews. I’m not sure if it is salvageable, but I will have someone look at it.”
He turned to Amy. “I suggest you have your cook fix you a tisane, or maybe have a bit of brandy to help you sleep. You will most likely be sore in the morning, too.”
“And you as well,” she added.
“Yes.” He rolled his shoulders. “I already feel the effects.”
“Milord, I was able to secure a hackney.” William’s driver walked up to them.
“Thank you so much for your drivi
ng skills,” Amy said as the driver stopped in front of her. “This could have been much worse had you not taken things under control.”
The man smiled, and despite the lack of light, she could have sworn he blushed.
William took her arm and walked her to the hackney, gave the driver her direction, and paid him. He helped her into the vehicle, then leaned his arm on the door. “I will call on you tomorrow afternoon to see if you are doing well.”
“Thank you. Good night.” The door closed, and she was on her way. As the carriage turned onto George Street, she remembered she still wore William’s jacket.
* * *
Three days after the carriage accident, Amy made her way downstairs from her bedchamber to the drawing room. She was still a bit sore, but the black-and-blue marks on her body had begun to fade to an interesting yellow and green. She’d also been suffering from a headache since the accident and wondered if she had struck her head and didn’t remember doing it. That could be why she had passed out.
Despite Amy’s protestations, Aunt Margaret had insisted on calling a physician, who had checked her over and found her just bruised. He’d left her some laudanum to take twice a day, but Amy had decided to stop that as of today. Her body still pained her in places, especially when she walked, but there would be no more pain medication for her. Since laudanum was a form of opium, the last thing she wanted was to become addicted.
As promised, William had stopped by to ask after her health Sunday afternoon but had not requested to see her, since she was in bed at the time. He later sent a note once again asking after her health and requesting to call on her when she felt able to accept company. The visit had been set for today, and since she was weary of staying indoors, she was delighted to see the lovely spring weather. Their visit would take place in the garden.
Eloise had also visited with her Sunday, keeping her laughing with stories about the activities she and her cousin had been enjoying. She’d also told her she would be traveling to London with her cousin for a short visit. Ordinarily Amy would accompany her, as she’d done many times before, but with the murder investigation, she couldn’t leave Bath and didn’t want to, anyway.
She carefully eased herself into the most comfortable chair in the room and thought once more on the accident. It was quite lucky that she and William hadn’t been killed.
She had barely settled into the chair when Lacey entered the room, her face registering the perpetual look of sympathy she’d adopted since Amy arrived home from the accident. “Milady, Lord Wethington has arrived.”
“Thank you. Please ask Cook to prepare tea and a few sandwiches. I am hungry and slept through breakfast once again.” As Lacey turned to do as she was bid, Amy added, “Oh, and please serve the tea in the garden. Lord Wethington and I will be strolling there.”
“My dear Lady Amy, how are you feeling?” William limped into the room with the help of a cane, a bright smile on his somewhat battered face. He had apparently smacked his head during the accident, because she noted a bruise on his right cheekbone.
“I find each day I feel a little bit better.”
’Twas so good to see William. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until he hobbled into the room. Maybe experiencing a life-threatening situation together had something to do with it. She now felt an attachment to him she’d hadn’t before.
“What happened?” She gestured to the cane.
He smiled and waved the stick around. “Oh, this? I hadn’t realized it that night, but I twisted my ankle during the accident and find it much easier to walk with the help of my friend here.”
“Lacey is arranging for tea. Also some sandwiches, if you are hungry. I thought we could take a walk in the garden and have our tea out there.”
“Ah, I can always use a bit of food. And a stroll in the garden sounds like a splendid idea.” He withdrew a paper from inside his jacket. “Although I am glad to see you, to make sure you are still in one piece, there is a particular reason I needed to speak with you.”
Amy opened her mouth to respond as Lacey returned once more to the room. “Milady, the two detectives are here and want to speak with you.”
Botheration. Amy groaned. Her head immediately began to throb harder, and she wanted nothing more than to ask Lacey to refuse them entrance so she could enjoy William’s visit. However, the detectives hadn’t even waited for Lacey to return but trooped in right behind her.
Amy sighed. “Good afternoon, Detectives.”
They came to an abrupt stop as they looked at William. “What happened to you?”
“Lady Amy and I were in a bit of an accident Saturday evening.”
Detective Carson sat, with Detective Marsh taking the chair across from him. Reluctantly she took a seat on the settee, where William joined her. They formed a cozy little group, and Amy wished them to perdition.
Marsh shook his head. “An accident, eh?”
William cleared his throat to gain the detectives’ attention. “Lady Amy and I were returning from the Assembly Rooms Saturday evening when my carriage wheel broke.”
“No dead body this time, Lady Amy?” Carson smirked at her, which set her head to throbbing even more.
“Nasty business,” Marsh said as he flipped open his ever-present notepad and pulled a pencil from his pocket. “The roads need to be dealt with. Too many ruts in the streets.”
Still annoyed at their interruption, Amy said, “How can I help you, Detectives?”
“Just a few questions about some of your friends.” Carson grinned. She didn’t trust that man at all. She straightened in the chair as best she could and stared at him. “Indeed? Why are you concerned with my friends?”
Marsh scratched the side of his nose. “Well, we haven’t uncovered any friends that St. Vincent had by talking to his employees at his shipping company, or his neighborhood. It seemed the man kept to himself. So, it appeared to us that his social life must have revolved around you and your friends, since he was your fiancé.”
“Ex-fiancé.”
“I have a list here of those who turned up as having an association with you, that most likely had some contact with Mr. St. Vincent.”
There was no way to get out of this, since it would be impolite for her as a dignified lady to rise and march from the room, leaving William to deal with them. “Very well. Whom do you wish to know about?”
“Mr. Richard Miles.”
What was it they wanted to know about him? Should she tell the detectives about Mr. Miles’s drug involvement? Unless they asked specifically, she decided to remain silent about that.
“He is a member of my book club, the Mystery Book Club of Bath. We meet every Thursday evening at Atkinson and Tucker bookstore. Mr. St. Vincent attended with me a few times but was not an active member, so I don’t think he and Mr. Miles were actually friends.”
Carson leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp and questioning. “Did you know Mr. Miles sells illegal drugs?”
They had done their homework. “I can’t imagine how I would know that.”
Unless you asked your gardener about his drug use and he then identified Mr. Miles as his drug provider.
Since they had known about her seeing Mr. Miles and Mr. Harris at the Pump Room, and that Mr. Harris had danced with her and proposed to her, who knew what these men—to whom she’d obviously not given enough credit—had also learned? Did they know she was lying?
Detective Marsh looked down at his notepad as Detective Carson said, “Lady Suzanne Carlisle.”
Suzanne? Even Amy hadn’t known the woman’s first name. She shook her head. “Again, she is a member of my book club. All I know of her is she attends the Assembly Room dances most Saturdays, and it is said her husband is waiting for an appointment from the Queen as ambassador to France. Her contact with Mr. St. Vincent was slight. No more than conversation at the meetings he attended.”
A quick flash of an agitated Lady Carlisle arguing with Mr. Miles outside the Assembly Room the Satu
rday before stopped her for a moment, but as odd as that seemed, that wouldn’t have any connection to Mr. St. Vincent.
Marsh continued to take notes while Detective Carson shot names at her. “Mrs. Gertrude Miles.”
Good heavens, were they going to go down the entire book club membership? “She is Mr. Miles’s mother, and a lovely, sweet woman. She is quite fond of mystery books and enjoys our book club meetings.”
“Any connection other than that to Mr. St. Vincent?”
“No.”
It had just occurred to Amy that the reason for all the questions about other people, individuals whom they should have asked about long before now, was that they could not find absolute proof that Amy had killed St. Vincent and were finally considering other suspects. Surely she would have been dragged off to jail by now if they had proof.
Lacey entered the room with the tea cart. Since it appeared Amy and William would not be taking a stroll in the garden anytime soon, the maid had obviously made the correct decision and brought the tea to the drawing room.
Amy breathed a sigh of relief to have the questioning stopped for a bit. “Detectives, may I offer you tea?”
“No. But you go ahead,” Marsh said as he continued to write in his pad.
Despite it being poor manners, she really needed a cup of tea and some food. She was already beginning to feel light-headed. “I believe I will indulge.” She turned to William. “My lord?”
Carson snickered.
Amy regarded him with raised brows. “Is something wrong, Detective?”
“You toffs always get me. Every time we’ve come, the lad here is parked nice and cozy with you in this room. He stood alongside you when you found two dead bodies, and he was in the carriage with you when it went for a nasty spill. Yet you still address him as my lord.” He chuckled, and Amy considered throwing the teapot at the man’s head.
Unfortunately, the lovely pink-and-white-flowered china piece had been her mother’s and was Amy’s favorite, so she resisted the urge. Instead she smiled warmly. “It is called good manners, Detective. I am quite sorry you don’t recognize them.”
A Study in Murder Page 21