by Claudy Conn
“The seriousness of the situation absolutely demands it, Amanda,” Alfred puffed up. “I don’t think your flippancy is warranted here.”
She sighed, “I understand your concerns, but our cousin has died and at the hands of a murderer. It is not for us to handle, is it? I can only imagine what poor Celia felt in her last moments. It is most distressing and I am sure when the doctor notifies the authorities it will be immediately investigated.” She sighed heavily, “Even so, I don’t think this is the moment to be throwing around unsubstantiated notions, do you? We can not know who did this or why. What we do know is our cousin has been murdered, and my brother and I need a moment to grieve,” Mandy said quietly.
“That is because you have not considered…” Sir Owen put in gently. “That Celia was not killed by some random stranger traveling through the area. How could it be? A stranger couldn’t possibly have known she would be where she was. And what was the motive? This was done by someone she knew…”
“Indeed, I quite agree,” Alfred added, cutting Sir Owen off. Without thinking it out added, “No doubt her lover.”
“Alfred!” Mandy objected somewhat shocked. “Why would a lover kill her?”
“Many reasons. Jealousy…or…” Alfred started to list suggestions.
“Oh do shut up,” Ned stuck in. “Of all the foolish notions. Jealousy? Jealousy enough to kill her? Rubbish.”
“Just a moment, Ned,” Sir Owen said softly. “I do think it is likely someone romantically involved with Celia is her murderer, although I don’t think it was jealousy that drove him.”
“Why? What would drive him then?” Mandy asked frowning up at him.
“It is as yet, unclear,” Sir Owen replied. “But I do think it unlikely that some mysterious stranger met her at the lily pond and took her life. Only do but consider. As I have already stated, how would he know she was going to be at that spot? She had little on her person to rob, and…”
Mandy turned on Alfred, cutting Sir Owen off. “Why did she write your father to meet her?”
“What?” Sir Owen answered before Alfred could. “I too received a note requesting me to meet her.”
Ned ran a hand through his fair locks, “She sent me a note as well…she wanted me to come by at six thirty. I thought it an odd hour…and then I went to the wrong location as I wasn’t sure and thought….but,” he ran a hand roughly through his blond locks. “If only I had gone to the right location…if only I had been on time, I could have stopped the villain!”
“Why ask Ned to meet her at six thirty and you and my uncle at seven? It makes no sense.” Mandy stuck in. “What did she hope to gain?”
“You were late then, Ned?” Alfred stuck in. “Saw you dash into the woods on my way up to the house.”
“Aye,” answered Ned. “I was up at the big pond on the other side of the house. Took me a few moments before I realized where she meant. I didn’t see you though…”
Alfred ignored this as he turned on Mandy, “You see, I told you he didn’t notice me. As though he would hide from me if he had.”
“Are you certain it was six thirty, you were supposed to meet her?” Sir Owen asked as he stared hard at Ned.
“Here is the note…look for yourself,” Ned said going into his pocket and coming up empty handed. His brows drew together, “Now where did I put it? I know I had it for Skippendon wanted my…and I had it in m’hand when I gave him…”
“Skippendon?” Sir Owen interrupted.
“Yes, you know him? Good friend, Skippy. We met earlier today at the Cock Pit, must have lost it then.”
“Ah, yes, I was there myself…and saw you there. Indeed, perhaps you dropped it when you were with the viscount,” Sir Owen murmured pulling at his lower lip thoughtfully.
“What does it matter, anyway?” Ned shrugged. “I don’t see that it matters.”
“It matters, or it will when the authorities arrive tomorrow and ask us all to produce the notes we had from Miss Brinley,” Sir Owen replied curtly.
“Devil fly away with such nonsense. It has naught to do with…”
“Indeed,” Mandy put in. “I don’t see this point of questioning. It brings us no closer to understanding who could have killed our cousin or why.”
Ned’s face brightened as he produced a crumpled piece of paper and held it up, “Here is the missive she sent asking me to come!” He sounded almost triumphant and Mandy understood. Thus far, the questions both Alfred and Sir Owen were shooting in her brother’s direction felt almost accusatory.
She took the crumpled paper from him and perused it, “Here, indeed, she asks Ned to meet her at six thirty, saying it is urgent, nothing more.”
Sir Owen put his hand out for the note and Mandy eyed him quizzically but did finally hand it over. Why shouldn’t she, she thought. She and her brother had nothing to hide.
He looked at it only a moment and said, “This is in a different hand than the one that I have.”
Mandy turned to Ned, “Who brought you this note?”
“Her maid,” he said frowning.
Mandy went directly to the bell pull and gave it a hard tug. A moment later, a lackey appeared, and she requested him to ask Celia’s ladies’ maid to present herself in the library.
While they were waiting Sir Owen said quietly, “I believe the doctor will have more news for us tomorrow. You see, Celia confided in me earlier this week. She told me she was in a bit of a predicament because she was with child but she wouldn’t tell me who the father was.” He looked at Ned. “Did you know anything about this?”
Ned’s eyes opened wide and he turned to his sister and said, “I swear, I have never been with her…not like that…”
“And yet, she hinted to me that Ned here was the father,” Sir Owen returned gravely.
Ned turned angry eyes on him, “Fiend seize you, Sir Owen. How dare you accuse me of such a thing! What sort of scoundrel are you making me out to be? Damn, but I have a notion to call you out!”
Mandy stepped between the two before her brother could do something rash. “Stop, Neddy, I don’t believe it for a moment. Celica, poor soul, was working one of her schemes, nothing more.” She turned on Sir Owen, her cheeks felt as hot as she was sure they must look and she wagged a finger. “I thought you a friend. I realize now, how very wrong I was. A friend would know better…know better in his heart! A friend would not speak of insinuations which are not fact. A friend would not put that friend’s brother under suspicion without cold hard facts and you do not have them. You have conjecture and I think it is time for you to take Alfred and go.”
He stepped toward her, “Please, Miss Amanda…do not turn away from me. I am only pointing out what will be said on the morrow. The question had to be asked. I never thought it true. I still do not think it true. I had come to understand Celia and her machinations and still the question had to be asked. If she spoke to me, she surely made mention of this to another.”
“Indeed,” said Alfred. “I believe she hinted the same to me.”
Mandy rounded on him. She knew he was lying. Why was he doing so? Was he afraid suspicion might be cast upon himself? Were they trying to set Ned up as their scapegoat? She wouldn’t have it. “Not true and do not try and tell me otherwise. I know better, Alfred.”
He started to answer her, apparently thought better of it and kept quiet.
Sir Owen said sadly, “By now, I am certain the good doctor has already reported Miss Celia’s murder to the local magistrate and I believe it will be left for him to sort out.”
“M’father is a magistrate as well. He works with magistrate Connors, he does and he will be very upset,” Alfred stuck in worriedly.
A knock sounded and all eyes turned to find the lackey nervously fidgeting from one foot to the other. His eyes were wide with the news as he called out, “Miss Amanda, ‘tis Elly, Elly Bonner—Miss Brinley’s maid. She up and left. Took her things, she did. Gone, she be gone.”
Mandy’s brows went up before she compose
d herself and thanked her servant, waited for him to leave and turned to the assembled company.
“Why on earth would she take off like that?”
“They will say Ned here paid her to go,” Alfred said. “This is going to be a scandal and m’father won’t like it. Not one bit.”
“Do shut up, Alfred,” Mandy turned on him.
“Look here! That is no way to speak to me! It’s your brother that has gone and got himself mixed up in the blackest scrape ever I’ve seen, not I,” Alfred retorted, much incensed.
Ned was at his cousin’s throat, but Mandy managed to pull him off and away all the while her twin spluttered furiously, “Fiend seize your shriveled soul, you puling noddy,” Ned shouted at him as Mandy gripped his arm.
Alfred announced that he would not be spoken to that way and said he was going home to confer with his father. He must have remembered the Bolton Abbey Ruins and turned to Sir Owen to inquire, “Do you come, sir?”
“If only to keep you from distorting the facts to your father,” Sir Owen returned, and bowed low as he took Mandy’s hand.
She removed her fingers from his and stared coolly at him.
His voice was sincere as he said, “Believe me, your obedient servant in this and all things, my sweet.”
She wanted to slap him. How dare he pretend to be a friend while he held her brother in suspicion! “Good night, gentlemen,” she responded, dismissing them both.
Brother and sister waited only long enough for them to be gone, before they looked at one another and Mandy said, “Ned, I don’t like the insinuations behind everything both Sir Owen and Alfred said.”
“Nor do I. What’s more, m’girl, this is too smoky by half.”
“Indeed, someone has killed Celia and knows enough about us, that they have managed to cast suspicion your way. We need help and there is but one person I know that can offer it. In the morning, we’ll ride over to Skippendon,” Mandy said grimly.
“Skippy?” Ned brightened. “Certes, Mandy, you’ve hit upon the very thing. Skippy will see us through this.”
Abovestairs, Celia’s stepmother paced. This would be a dreadful ordeal ahead, but not as dreadful as the one she would have endured had Celia lived.
The last few months had been a horror for her.
Now Celia was dead. Thank goodness, because with Celia gone, so too were her fears for the future. Now, she had to make certain no one looked her way!
Chapter Four
VISCOUNT JOHN SKIPPENDON’S home lay some five miles southwest of the Sherborne estate. The extensive Wharfdale Manor grounds skirted a narrow channel through which the waters of the Wharfe poured its silver rills.
Mandy had always admired the viscount’s lovely estate grounds, but this morning, she could see nothing past the worry in her mind. How would she convey her concerns to Skippy? What would he think? What would he do?
Skippendon’s holdings, his fame, and his heart were known to be vast and wide open. He was a favorite both in and out of London, though recently, he seemed to prefer his home in the wilds of Yorkshire than his townhouse in London.
He had always been a beloved friend, despite the five years seniority he had on them. For years they had looked upon him as they would have an older brother. He seemed knowledgeable in all things and Ned was certain now, he could straighten out this entire mess. Mandy, however, was not so certain. Murder was quite a different matter than the ins and outs of the social mores of the beau monde.
“Good thing, Skip is in residence, don’t know what we would do with this mess if he weren’t,” Ned said with a heavy sigh.
“Indeed, yes, but I am worried, Ned. I don’t like what is happening up at the Halls. Aunt Agatha behaved most oddly this morning and I am worried about Alfred and his father. I don’t trust them, either of them, especially in this matter.”
“Aye, I quite agree…but, Mandy…I never bedded Celia. You must believe me. I simply can’t be the father.”
“I do believe you. Ned, you don’t have to keep repeating it. I know you were not the father of her child, and I also know that if you were, you would have done the right thing by her in a heartbeat. I know you, Ned.”
He sighed and kept quiet then, but Mandy knew he was seriously worried.
They had slowed their horses to a walk and Mandy flung the long pale blue scarf that banded her dark blue top hat away from her face. She set down her reins and tied it at a bow at the back of her hat and complained, “I shall remember to think less about fashion and more about practicality the next time I purchase a riding hat.”
“Hats? This is no time to be bothering about hats,” retorted her brother. They had reached the viscount’s stables. Two young grooms had come running to take their horses as they dismounted.
Mandy took to smoothing the tight fitted blue velvet riding jacket over her matching skirt and pinch the white lace of her blouse while he fidgeted about and finally demanded, “Come on, girl. Lud, you look just fine.”
She pulled a face but fell hurriedly into step beside him. They were welcome visitors at the Manor and taken immediately down the dark hall of the Tudor styled manor to the open doors of the morning room.
The viscount looked up from the coffee he was sipping in time to hear Mandy squeak.
He set down his cup and turned, bright-eyed and smiling as she exploded into the room. He grinned as he stood to take the full force of her onslaught, his arms held open for her.
He was still in his brocade dressing gown, although, this was worn over his shirt, breeches, and highly polished boots, as Mandy dove into his arms, and wailed his name, “Skippy—oh Skippy!” It was such a release to be able to let down some of her guardedness with someone she completely trusted.
Ned met Skippy’s eyes over his sister’s head, but she turned in time to catch his expression and objected, “Do not be rolling your eyes like that.” She turned back to the viscount, “We are in a devil of a scrape.”
Ned plopped down on a nearby leather upholstered chair and put a fruit tart into his mouth.
The viscount set Mandy aside and frowned, “What’s this? A scrape? What sort of scrape?” He then turned on Ned and shouted, “Hold there! You scoundrel, that is the last tart.”
“Is it?” Ned returned and grinned. “Well then, you have the satisfaction of knowing it has been appreciated.”
Skippy shot him a fiendish look, but as Mandy was tugging on his sleeve, he returned his attention to her and groaned. “Mandy my dear, you and your brother’s descent into my peaceful morning is both unexpected and an unwanted pleasure, but do tell me, what scrape?”
“Don’t be horrid, Skippy. We are in the rockiest of straits,” Mandy declared wringing her hands. “Aunt Agatha’s stepdaughter, our cousin Celia, was murdered last night.”
“Good God!” the viscount returned his brows arching as his eyes widened with his shock. “Murdered? What do you mean, murdered? How? Why?” He waved her toward a chair, “Sit and tell me the whole.” He waited for her to be seated and took up a hard backed chair and pulled it close to her.
“Someone strangled her,” Ned said on a hushed note.
“Upon my word!” the viscount returned.
“Precisely,” said Mandy, “But—that is not the whole of it.”
“No? What can that mean?” the viscount’s hazel eyes narrowed and he put a hand through the mass of light brown locks around his pleasant face.
“She was with child…” Mandy put in and felt the heat rush to her cheeks.
“Blister it! Are you saying someone killed the poor young thing…while she was…upon my soul!” Skippy was on the edge of his chair and looking thunderous. “Who would have…why, it is unthinkable. Who could have…?”
“Me, they think it was me,” Ned said miserably.
Skippy stood up. “What sort of Banbury story is that?”
“True, both Sir Owen and Alfred were pointing fingers at Ned last evening,” Mandy put in.
“Time for you and your brothe
r to take a jaunt to London,” Skip said with some grimness.
“No, no, I must find out who did this, or people whether they can prove it or not, will always think it was me. That is the rumor already going about in ‘m’own home, Skip. I know, my man told me this morning,” Ned said obviously upset. “If we leave now, they are bound to believe that I am guilty.” Ned sighed heavily, “I must find out who murdered her.”
“Don’t see that you should do that. Bound to be trouble if someone means to implicate you. Leave it to the runners,” the viscount returned.
“Skippy, Ned had an assignation with Celia last night, he was the one that found her…and Sir Owen came upon them. Earlier, Alfred saw Ned go into the woods and well, it looks awful, you see.”
It was then that the viscount made them tell him all from the first moment that Ned became interested in Celia to the very last moment when he found her body.
The butler arrived at that moment to announce the arrival of two gentlemen, Squire Bevis Speenham and Mr. Alfred Speenham.
Ned cursed beneath his breath, but Skippy’s eyes had narrowed as he murmured, “Leave them to me, Ned…Mandy. Try not to engage them or get ruffled by them.”
No more than the required amenities were exchanged when Squire Bevis nodded at Ned and said, “Edward, it grieves me deeply, for it is a blot against the entire family, but I must ask you to accompany me to Harrowgate to speak with Magistrate Connors.”
“Why?” Mandy was on her feet.
“Because he must. His involvement in this situation, this ugly situation requires that he appear for questioning.”
Mandy saw red color fill her twin’s cheeks, “No! Why should he be questioned? Your son and Sir Owen both came to Sherborne last evening to meet with Celia. Either one of them could have murdered her. It is more likely that one of them committed the crime as it is my brother,” Mandy retorted in high form. “How dare you charge my brother as a suspect! Two other men were supposed to meet her at the pond and for all we know, they did…”