“What? No!” Sir Edmund declared, then laughed. “I’m a bit befuddled even now, but never mind all that. It’ll sort itself without my help. I must find Ash… wherever did she get off to?”
“She didn’t say,” Miles replied. “Sometime in the next several minutes, her plan is to meet with Lady Carlisle in her office. We’re headed there ourselves, if you’d care to join us.”
“Yes, of course,” Sir Edmund acknowledged.
We left the ballroom behind, and turned our steps in the direction of the office.
“We’ve been somewhat preoccupied today,” Miles started to say.
“So you have,” Sir Edmund suddenly gave us a sharp look. “This is the first I’ve seen of you. Wherever have you been?”
“We spent the day in town,” Miles answered, though he left out which ones, and in what countries they were located.
“In town,” Sir Edmund repeated in surprise.
“Well… you did ask us to stop finding bodies here at the manor,” I replied.
“What better way to ensure it?” Miles added.
“And did you find any?” Sir Edmund questioned apprehensively. “Elsewhere, I mean.”
“No,” I laughed shortly, and Miles smiled.
“As hard as it may be to believe at this point, we’re not in the habit of finding bodies everywhere we turn.”
Murderers, yes. Bodies, no.
“Yes, I do find that rather difficult to grasp, seeing as how effortlessly you’ve turned them up since your arrival,” Sir Edmund said dryly.
“It wasn’t entirely effortless,” I replied.
“Two out of three, maybe,” Miles considered.
“Speaking of murders and those who commit them, what’s Delacroix been up to, today?” I asked.
“Attempting damage control with Mother and the rest, mostly,” Sir Edmund replied, then lowered his tone. “I suppose you’ve the proof you were expecting?”
“Even better, the detective does,” Miles replied. “An arrest may not be immediate, but it is imminent.”
“Excellent, I shall be glad to have it done,” Sir Edmund approved. “The damage to the manor, our investments, even relationships, it angers me no end! Then all the murdering, and right here on the grounds, no less. It’s simply dreadful, of course.”
“Of course,” I remarked, although the order in which murder fell on the list struck me as kind of funny.
“Any idea where Delacroix might be?” Miles asked.
“I suspect he’s still in the ballroom,” Sir Edmund replied. “All those masks, you know, it’s hard to be certain.”
“If he was present, it seems like there’d be some kind reaction out of him after the way you expressed your absolute lack of intentions toward the Countess,” I pointed out.
“Perhaps he had it out of his system earlier in the day,” Sir Edmund shrugged. “I certainly had it out of mine. I’ve no doubt he and Mother’ve both given up on the wretched arrangement, after all that.”
“Really?” I responded curiously. “But—then who were you talking to in there, when you said all that?”
“Everyone present, of course,” Sir Edmund replied. “All those who weren’t there to hear it before, but especially Ash. I mean to ensure no one is left to believe that ridiculous engagement stands.”
“That’s a significant step toward gaining your independence,” Miles remarked.
“I rather like how it feels,” Sir Edmund said. “I wonder now, what I was so afraid of. Leaving the manor and my way of life here, no longer feels the worst that can happen. It’s an adventure, and one I’m eager to begin.”
“Well… that’s good,” I acknowledged.
We reached the office, and Sir Edmund knocked. He waited briefly, then retrieved a keyring from his pocket.
“Mother is most likely in her private office, transferring the charity funds to the hospital,” Sir Edmund remarked, as he inserted the key in the lock. “It’s a staggering amount, so we may have a bit of a wait. Not that the transfer itself will take but a moment, so long as the account number is entered correctly. If not, to attempt retrieval would be a lost cause.”
“We’re in no hurry,” Miles assured him.
Sir Edmund opened the door, then followed us inside.
The generous space had more in common with a drawing room or parlor, than it did an office. In fact, there was no desk, no filing cabinets, no computer, or printer. There were however, a number of delicate upholstered chairs, all in ivory, as well as a small sofa. The damask curtains and their silky flower and leaf design, were also ivory. It would be a bit much, if not for the welcome infusion of color in the figurines and other accessories, parlor palms, mahogany accent furniture, flowered wallpaper, area rugs, and still-life paintings. Taken altogether, it was a lovely room.
Delacroix intends to murder Lady Carlisle, whether she does as he says, or not.
My eyes widened, and my grip on Miles’ arm tightened, as I looked sharply at the door to the inner office. Light shone underneath, then dimmed, as someone inside moved closer. I reached for Miles’ hand, and squeezed twice. He looked down at me in concern, then followed my gaze.
“We are in a hurry, and this can’t wait,” I swiftly amended.
Sir Edmund’s eyebrows rose at that, then knit, as he saw the look on my face, whatever that was. I didn’t have a mirror or time to find one. Even a second more could be too late!
The door to the inner office burst open with a bang. Sir Edmund stepped back in surprise, but Miles swiftly moved forward. He understood enough to nearly hurl the door off its hinges, he wasn’t waiting around for an invitation. I held tight to his arm, and followed.
Through the open doorway, I caught a glimpse of a parlor palm, chair, open wall safe, and a section of desk. There were no signs of occupancy, but as we drew rapidly closer, that changed.
“Stay back!” Lady Carlisle called out firmly. Her ice blue eyes burned anxiously in her pale face, and her lips were tight with tension, as she sat behind her desk, under the watchful eye of Monsieur Delacroix. She looked ready to snap. It appeared he already had.
“Mother!” Sir Edmund replied in alarm, as he skidded to a halt beside us.
“Stay back!” she insisted urgently. “He has a revolver!”
“Stay where you are, or I shall use it!” Delacroix warned, as he aimed the barrel of the ancient looking firearm at the doorway where we stood. His eyes gleamed maniacally from out of the swirling darkness. Whether he knew how to operate it or not, he intended to try.
“What business do you have here, Delacroix?” Miles asked evenly.
Delacroix’s eyes flashed in response.
“I’ll ask the questions around here,” he declared imperiously, but judging by the lengthy pause that followed, he could think of none.
“For heavens sake, put the gun down, and stop this nonsense!” Sir Edmund exclaimed. “You’ve nothing to gain, here!”
“What I have, is nothing to lose!” Delacroix fired back dangerously. “Now you’re here, you might as well stay. Over there, against the wall. Move it, now I say, or I shall decide you value your life as little as I do!”
Miles used his arm to keep me behind him, and led the way. As long as he had a clear view, we were all perfectly safe.
“Even if I married your cousin, there’d be nothing in it for you,” Sir Edmund declared, as he followed.
“I could care less whether you do or don’t,” Delacroix replied scornfully.
“Especially since today is her twenty-fifth birthday,” I said. “How could that get by you?”
That made him skip a beat. If Miles didn’t have his abilities, now would be the perfect time to try and overpower the murderous thief.
Sir Edmund couldn’t resist a short laugh.
“There’s one more for the list of all you failed to count on.”
Another wave of confused uncertainty briefly swept across Delacroix’s face, but he shook it off impatiently.
“Keep
moving,” he ordered.
With each step we took away from the door, he moved a step closer, until he reached it.
“Stop, there, against the wall, behind the desk,” Delacroix snapped.
In front of us sat Lady Carlisle. In front of her, an open laptop displayed the login screen of a financial institution.
“This is ridiculous,” Lady Carlisle declared firmly. “You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.”
“It’s ridiculous to believe I cannot,” Delacroix retorted arrogantly. He was too far away for us to rush, so he thought he had the upper hand. Little did he know, Miles could take him down without lifting a finger. I wasn’t afraid at all, but I felt sorry for Lady Carlisle and Sir Edmund. They had no idea how safe they were.
“I’ll not marry that woman, you might as well accept it,” Sir Edmund warned.
“How frightfully dull you are,” Delacroix replied scornfully. “It’s a wonder your mother didn’t shoot you herself, long ago. I shall do the deed for you, Lucinda. Or not. See to the transfer, and the decision is yours.”
Lady Carlisle’s hands shook, and her tightly laced fingers were white on the desk in front of her, but she looked back at Delacroix steadily.
“Leave immediately, or else be hunted down like the worthless dog you are,” she snapped imperiously, and she had no idea how fortunate she was that Trixie wasn’t there to hear. “You seem to forget those from whom you intend to steal. The Farleys, the Westerleys, the Bainbridges, certainly will not.”
“What on earth can you mean?” Sir Edmund shot his mother a shocked look. It seemed the son of the house was a few steps behind.
“Delacroix intends to use the donation proceeds to skip town and start a new life,” I explained.
“Unless you’re smarter than I think, every one of you will stay out of my way,” Delacroix threatened, which made no sense, but it’s what he said. “Make the transfer, Lucinda.”
“Anika, are there any questions that have yet to be answered?” Miles asked.
“I still wonder how he could get the Countess’ birthdate wrong, when he had so much riding on it,” I replied. “But other than that, no.”
“Then you can die wondering,” Delacroix snapped.
“That’s not the truth,” I felt compelled to point out.
“No, but that is,” Miles said grimly.
“Enough talk!” Delacroix bellowed. “Lucinda, now! Transfer now, or I begin shooting!”
“A single shot is the most you’ll manage with that firearm,” Miles remarked. “Less, if it was loaded improperly. There’s a good chance if you pull that trigger, it’ll blow up in your face.”
And that, was the truth.
“I shall take my chances! I wager they’re better than your own!” Delacroix shouted, leveled the antique weapon at Miles’ chest, and pulled the trigger.
There was a bang, several shrieks, and the smell of gunpowder. Delacroix leaped back with another shriek, as the gun hit the floor. The barrel was split and curled, and his hand blackened. He stared around wildly as he reached inside his cloak—I’m not sure what historical period he was trying to emulate—and clumsily pulled out a lighter. A container labeled lighter fluid fell to the floor and bounced, sloshing the liquid inside. He snatched a second container from inside his cloak, and flipped the top.
“Stay back!” he shouted, as he squeezed the bottle with all his might.
“You fool, with all that noise, the entire manor will be onto you any minute now!” Sir Edmund declared. “You’ll never get away with this!”
Delacroix feverishly squeezed the bottle again, then again. His eyebrows knit fiercely, as he gripped the cap between his teeth, and wrenched it off.
“Stay back!” he bellowed, as he brandished the bottle in one hand, and the lighter in the other.
“Whatever do you think you’re doing?” Lady Carlisle snapped indignantly.
“You’ll never get away with it!” Sir Edmund declared. “You’ll never get away, at all!”
“Then neither shall the rest of you!” Delacroix shouted, as he fumbled with the lighter, and simultaneously attempted to hurl the contents out of the bottle.
It sloshed mockingly, but refused to exit.
With a howl, Delacroix hurled the bottle to the ground and stomped on it, as he fumbled with the lighter some more.
Not a single spark would it make.
Delacroix’s face was purple with rage as he struggled with his cloak, and tore out a knife. Lady Carlisle gasped, and Sir Edmund grabbed the desk mat. It would make a lousy shield, but he didn’t have a lot to choose from.
The enraged would-be arsonist dropped to the floor, and viciously stabbed the nearest bottle.
And yet, not a drop emerged.
The sound of frustrated rage erupting from Delacroix was unlike anything I ever heard before, as he stabbed the bottle again and again. He slammed the lighter to the floor, and took a stab at it, too. Despite his best attempts, not a scratch, slash, puncture, or dent could he make.
“Absolutely nothing is going the way I want!” he practically foamed at the mouth, as he fixed his feverish eyes on the four of us. He held the knife threateningly, as he prepared to stand.
With a loud thunk, Delacroix crumpled to the floor.
Ashley stood in the doorway, her face pale, her expression fierce, and a heavy candlestick in her hand.
“Add that to your list,” she said.
Chapter 27
“I daresay, this is the most excitement the manor has ever seen in a week’s time!” Sir Edmund declared with enthusiasm. His eyes were bright as he sat on the edge of his seat, as if even now, he was too energized to stay put for long. Delacroix was carted off by local authorities ages ago, but only now were we left alone to process the evening’s events.
“Indeed, I should hope so,” Lady Carlisle replied with feeling. Unlike her son, she sank gratefully into another of the outer office’s chairs. Ashley selected a third, and Miles and I chose the small sofa.
“You were awesome, Ashley,” I said again. I was immensely proud of her, and glad of the opportunity to say so in front of Lady Carlisle.
“That took a lot of courage,” Miles added his praise. “It was also smart, to strike right when you did.”
“It was unlikely a better opportunity would present itself,” Ashley replied modestly. “I had to try.”
“You did more than try,” Sir Edmund declared. “You clobbered the rotten fellow!”
“We owe you a great deal,” Lady Carlisle added apologetically, but Ashley shook her head.
“Truly, you do not,” she replied dismissively. “I couldn’t possibly do otherwise, and still live with myself.”
“That’s because you have character,” I pointed out, and Lady Carlisle looked appropriately regretful.
“I’m afraid that’s a trait I’ve valued far too little, in the past.”
“I have to agree,” Sir Edmund said more graciously than I expected him to. “I’m quite certain it will never happen again.”
“I’ve learned my lesson, most completely,” Lady Carlisle agreed fervently. “I do hope you can forgive me. Both of you.”
“Of course,” Ashley accepted, but she looked somewhat troubled.
“Certainly, when you put it that way,” Sir Edmund replied cheerfully.
“Miss Fairgrave, I do hope you will reconsider leaving the manor,” Lady Carlisle said sincerely. “I should like very much for you to stay. I am certain we both would.”
Now Ashley looked uncomfortable, as well as troubled.
Sir Edmund remained silent as he awaited Ashley’s response. I wondered if her answer would sway his plans to leave, one way or another.
Ashley rubbed her forehead, and sighed.
“How wonderful that the crimes of this week past have been accounted for,” she changed the subject, rather than respond. “I suppose that’s all the mysteries the manor had to be solved.”
“I suppose technically, that�
��s true,” I considered.
“Technically,” Miles agreed. Of course everyone looked confused. That might or might not change, but he elaborated anyway. “Ever since Anika and I received the invitation to Bannerman Manor, we wondered why, and at what point, the two branches of the family lost touch.”
“Yes, I’ve wondered the same thing myself,” Ashley hurried to say.
“It occurred to us that the answers might lie in the House of Bannerman’s extensive collection of letters, journals, and other documents,” Miles continued. “The process of organizing the estate’s several centuries’ worth of written materials will take years to complete, but much has been accomplished in the months since the endeavor began.”
“The filing system is broad at the moment,” I added. “Boxes are labeled by year, and the contents dated anywhere from January to December of the same. That makes hunting for a specific date or event difficult, but since the last contact of which we were certain was James and Katharine Bannermans’ visit to the manor in 1901, we started there. This required calling in reinforcements, of course.”
“While we’ve been here at the manor, our closest friends, Anika’s Mom, and her sister, spent a significant amount of their time combing through the many boxes of documents spanning that year, and the next,” Miles said.
“What an excellent idea,” Sir Edmund approved, though the glance he cast Ashley was as uncertain as it was hopeful. “The manor’s own lumber rooms could do with a good sorting, themselves. Ash is the perfect person to spearhead such an effort.”
Ashley looked uncomfortable, but she also looked at Sir Edmund.
Whatever they needed to say, needed to wait.
“I really wonder what you’d find there, if you did,” I interjected.
“Anika’s mother called as we were leaving for the ball. Thanks to the concerted efforts of friends and family, our questions now have answers,” Miles said.
“You mean to say you know when our families lost touch?” Sir Edmund asked curiously. “And why, and in such a short amount of time? Was there a falling out?”
“Not between your family and mine,” Miles replied.
Ashes of Roses Page 49