He reached no conclusion because as they pulled up the long drive to Chawton House Library, they were met with the startling sight of the tall, dignified librarian Rosemary Seaton hurtling out the door toward them, her neat brown hair uncharacteristically askew, one hand clutching her throat.
Arthur slowed to a stop and Richard jumped out. “Miss Seaton! What is it?” He grabbed her by her shoulders, afraid she might collapse.
She just shook her head, turned, and darted back into the house. Richard followed her, dimly aware that Elizabeth and Arthur were behind him. In spite of Rosemary’s frail appearance, she lost no time in racing up several flights of stairs to the very top of the house and down the dark, narrow hallway. At the end of the passage, she flung open a door.
Richard started forward, but Rosemary held out an arm. “I don’t think you should go in.” Her voice held surprising command.
Richard leaned over her barricading arm and looked round the corner. At first all he saw was the wreckage of the tall oak bookcase that had stood against the far wall filled with heavy, leather-bound volumes. Somehow it had toppled over and its valuable antique books were flung across the floor.
Then he looked closer. There could be no mistaking the blocky-cut grey hair or the sleeve of the shocking purple blouse that was all that showed from beneath the chaos.
That and the blood soaking into the drugget carpeting.
Chapter 14
“MURIEL!” NOW HE GAVE no heed to any effort to hold him back, although he was grateful Rosemary stopped the others at the doorway. Being as careful as he could not to disturb anything else, he knelt and removed two books so he could reach her temple. The skin was warm and soft, but he could find no pulse.
He stood up, shaking his head. “I think it’s too late, but we need to call an ambulance.”
In the hall, Arthur already had his mobile out. They were moving down the stairs when the clipped sound of high heels on the polished floor announced the manager’s arrival. “Rosemary, what was all the running about I heard? Surely the school group doesn’t come until tomorrow.”
“Sylvia, I . . .”
Richard took over. “There’s been an accident, Mrs. Martin. Miss Seaton has had a severe shock. Perhaps you could order some tea?”
The ever-efficient manager ushered everyone into the Great Hall and rang the housekeeper on her mobile. Elizabeth took the afghan from the back of one of the sofas and put it around Rosemary’s shoulders.
“We’ll wait downstairs for the ambulance,” Richard told Sylvia and signaled Arthur to follow him. “I think you should ring for the police, too,” he said as soon as they were out of the hearing of the others.
“Police? Why?”
“I don’t really know. It just all looked rather odd to me. And after what happened yesterday . . . What was Muriel doing in a room on the top floor with a sprained ankle? I thought she was supposed to be spending the day in bed.” He stopped, grasping for what he was trying to say. “I’m not sure. I just think they should see it before she’s moved.”
Arthur shrugged and made the call.
The ambulance arrived first, but when Sylvia Martin told them the police were on their way, they waited. The manager didn’t at all like the idea of bringing the police into the matter, but once they had been called, she had no option but to wait, her shoulders stiffly squared and her mouth set in a firm line. “We’ve never had a hint of any untoward behavior in this house, I can assure you,” were her first words to the young uniformed officer who introduced himself as Sergeant Townsend and his companion as WPC Sandra Jones.
Kevin Townsend was some time observing the scene before he returned to the Great Hall. He accepted a cup of tea from Sylvia and drank deeply before making his announcement. “Terrible accident. I’m sorry about your friend. It looks pretty straightforward—well, as straightforward as these things ever are. But I’ve asked my gov’nor to take a look before we move her. Just in case, you know. WPC Jones will stay up there until he arrives to see that nothing is disturbed.”
Townsend’s hesitancy showed his youth and inexperience, but Richard couldn’t fault his desire to do everything by the book, even if it did mean that they could be tied up here for hours yet. He looked at Elizabeth sitting by Rosemary and urging her to drink a second cup of sweet tea. At least a little color was returning to the librarian’s cheeks.
Sergeant Townsend took a notebook from his pocket. “Uh, if you don’t mind, it could save time later if you’d all like to tell me what you were doing this afternoon.”
“What are you suggesting?” Only the high pitch of Sylvia’s voice betrayed her outrage.
The sergeant ran his hand through his light brown hair. “I’m not suggesting anything, ma’am. I just thought it would be useful knowledge in assessing the, er— incident.”
“Well, I can tell you I spent the entire afternoon in my office. I have a full log of phone calls and emails to prove it.” Sylvia turned to a wooden chair, but only perched on the edge.
“And you didn’t hear anything?”
“Not until these people began thundering up and down the stairs.”
“But you didn’t hear the bookcase fall?” Kevin Townsend raised an eyebrow.
“My office is behind this staircase. That storage room is at the far end of the hall. I heard nothing.”
Richard could imagine she might not have heard anything, but he would have thought she might have felt it. The weight of that bookcase falling must have shaken the house. But then, these Tudor houses were of very solid construction.
“And you, ma’am?” The sergeant turned to Rosemary. “If I could start with your name and position?”
She explained that she had spent the day arranging a display for a group of young people who were coming in tomorrow. “That’s why I went upstairs. I needed a book . . .” She drowned the thought with a gulp of tea.
He moved on to Richard and Elizabeth, who introduced themselves and gave a brief account of their day in Steventon. “And I drove them,” Arthur added, failing to mention that he had returned briefly to Chawton.
“What’s going on? Why is there an ambulance outside?” Everyone turned as Gerri burst into the room, her flyaway red hair accented by her favorite orange scarf looped around her neck. She stopped short at the sight of a uniformed officer. “Police?”
“There’s been an accident, ma’am,” Kevin Townsend said.
Richard strode to the doorway to guide Gerri to a chair. “Sit down, Gerri.”
“Why? What is it? What accident?”
“Sit down.” Richard’s voice was as firm as his pressure on her shoulders. When she was seated, he continued, “It’s Muriel.”
“Muriel? Did her ankle get worse? She hasn’t fallen again, has she?”
“I’m afraid it’s a matter of something falling on her.” He explained as gently as he could.
To his surprise, the hysterical outburst he expected didn’t come. Instead, all color drained from Gerri’s face and her eyes fluttered. “She’s going to faint. Get her head down,” Sylvia barked.
Richard did. Sylvia directed the housekeeper to bring a blanket and more tea. “And some whiskey,” she added.
Gerri was just coming around when Claire wandered in, still looking a bit dazed from her long nap. Arthur sprang to her side. “Did you rest well? How’s your headache? Can I get you something?” He led her to the furthest sofa. Sergeant Townsend followed to get her details since Gerri was in no fit state to talk, although the tears that now coursed down her flushed cheeks were quiet, not the howl that Richard would have expected of her.
After a short conversation with Claire, the sergeant showed his mettle in approaching Sylvia Martin again. “I’ll need a list of your staff, ma’am. Those on duty today.”
Predictably, Sylvia rounded on him. “I can assure you, Sergeant, my staff is irreproachable.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Just their names and duties.” He held his pencil poised.
“Rosemary
, our head librarian, and Lilly, the housekeeper, you see here,” she answered stiffly. “Valeri oversees the catering. I imagine she’s in the kitchen now. Helen, our director of Public Relations, would be in her office in the stable block. What she’ll have to say about this, I can’t imagine. Edgar— he heads our operations staff— he could be anywhere.”
“And the outdoor staff?”
“Tristan is our head gardener. He has three under him. I’m sure he can account for their movements, but they would be most unlikely to come into the house, as would Julia and Lizzie, our horsemen.”
“Horsemen?”
“We raise Shire horses. They are excellent workhorses— part of our goal to recreate period farming. We rescue chickens as well. Edna is in charge of the poultry. She’s Edgar’s wife.”
While that interview was taking place, Beth, Paul, and Robert returned, each entrance just separate enough that the same explanation had to be gone through for each one, allowing time for the shock to register and tea to be served. Then the course of questions began again as Kevin Townsend stayed doggedly on duty, inquiring about each one’s movements.
“We walked into Alton. I did the Jane Austen Trail there.” Beth explained briefly about the series of features she was writing for The Bath Chronicle.
“And you were there all day?”
“There’s actually quite a lot to see there.” She sounded defensive. “The site of Henry’s bank, the home of Jane’s doctor, the home of a friend where Jane dined, the Swan Hotel . . .” She held out her camera. “I have photos if you doubt me.”
Sergeant Townsend held up his hand. “No, no. Honestly, I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I just want to get an idea of who was where.”
Richard smiled. Sergeant Townsend’s Chief Superintendent was obviously a careful man who would brook no slipshod work in his department.
“And you, sir? You were together in Alton all day?” He looked at Robert.
“I went to Alton, yes. I’ll do an article for the Centre’s newsletter, but I didn’t need as much detail as Beth. We’re e-only, so I’ll just do an introduction then link to Beth’s when it goes online. It’s efficient and makes for a lot of variety in our newsletter.”
“So what did you do, then?”
“I had a pub lunch— at the George, if you want to know— then came back here. I’ve been reading in my room.”
Paul had come in last. “I walked to Alton with them, yes,” he confirmed after they explained the situation to him. “But I spent most of the afternoon in Chawton.” He turned to Richard. “I wanted to nose around a bit, see if I could get a lead on where Edith might have been staying when she wrote that letter. That is . . .” He ground to a halt. “I don’t know . . .” He waved a hand in the general direction of the upstairs where the body of his author lay. “I’ll need more information if we’re going to publish it.”
That brought Gerri out of her stupor. “What do you mean ‘if’? You have to! It’s more important now than ever—a sacred trust to her memory.”
“It isn’t finished . . .” he began.
Gerri came to her feet, tangling in her scarf. “I’ll finish it. I know she would want me to.” And now the howl Richard had been expecting broke forth. Elizabeth attempted to comfort her, but Sylvia chose another tack.
“That’s quite enough of that. Pull yourself together now. The sergeant is waiting to hear what you did this afternoon.”
Amazingly, it worked. Gerri gave a loud sniff, blew her nose on the tissue Elizabeth thrust into her hand, and resumed her seat. “I—I tried to work. After I saw that Muriel was resting comfortably . . . I can’t imagine what she was doing up there. She needed to keep her foot up. She had a pair of crutches, but she was only supposed to use them for going to the loo. If she wanted a book, I would have fetched it for her—” She paused for another loud sniff and a furious dab at her eyes.
“You said you were working.” Sergeant Townsend brought her back on track.
“Yes, I tried. I did read some. In the library. The Chapman book Rosemary got for me. But I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I just walked in the grounds: Terrace, walled garden, fernery . . . I don’t know, just wandered around, really. I went as far as the woods.” Suddenly she brightened. “Oh, yes, Julia was there with Royston. She’ll tell you.”
“Royston?” the sergeant asked.
“One of our Shire horses,” Sylvia explained. “Royston pulls the hitch-cart to transport materials. This is a working estate, Sergeant.”
“Can you think why Dr. Greystone might have chosen to go upstairs? That’s a challenging journey for a woman with a sprained ankle.”
The question sparked a return of Gerri’s tears. “She was so dedicated to her work. She must have needed a book. If only I hadn’t gone out—I could have helped her.” Her face buried in her hands, she pushed to her feet and blundered from the room, barely avoiding crashing into the table beside the couch. Beth grabbed the box of tissues and followed her out, with Arthur on her heels.
Richard stood apart, surveying the people in the room, thinking again of what those who had just left had told of their movements. It was apparent that each one, apart from himself and Elizabeth, had been on their own for at least part of the day. And all within a distance of returning unseen to the Chawton House Library.
But that was nonsense. What motive any of them could possibly have had to tip a heavy oak bookcase over on Muriel Greystone, he couldn’t fathom. Still, the possibility existed.
Chapter 15
THE NEXT MORNING, ELIZABETH’S head was still pounding. Richard had apparently slipped out for a morning stroll in the gardens, so she made a cup of tea and took it to the conservatory that had been added to the stable block for the enjoyment of their resident guests. The morning sun streaming through the glass roof lifted her spirits somewhat. She sat in one of the ladder-backed chairs around the large oak table and gazed out on the verdant garden as she sipped.
Surely yesterday’s calamity hadn’t really happened. Muriel Greystone was such a vital force, so larger than life. She couldn’t be gone. And Richard’s implication that it hadn’t been an accident . . . What else could it possibly have been?
She could picture the scene: Muriel, reaching for a desired volume, unthinkingly putting weight on her injured foot, then, in reaction to the pain, grabbing onto the bookcase, but being off-balance, pulling the whole thing over on herself . . .
She had only glimpsed the room, but surely the way Muriel lay under the cascade of books was consistent with that scenario. If it hadn’t been, Superintendent Dawson would have spotted it.
The superintendent had arrived with a forensics team, which spent considerable time upstairs before the patient ambulance drivers were allowed to take the body away. Elizabeth shivered.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the glass-paned doors would fly open at any moment and Muriel would stride in, demanding to know why Elizabeth was sitting here when she should be at her research. But Elizabeth had seen the sheet-draped stretcher carried down the wide staircase with the inert form on it.
Still, the events replayed themselves in her mind. The superintendent had thanked them all for their cooperation and indicated that matters were now in the coroner’s hands, although at the moment, he could see nothing to prevent a verdict of death by misadventure. “Be sure Sergeant Townsend has your addresses and you will be free to go.”
Gerri, who, after her dramatic exit had returned to the group red-eyed, but quieter, had turned to her. “Go? Go where without Muriel? There’s nothing to do.”
“I thought you were going to finish her work.” Richard stepped in with just the tonic.“Oh. Yes.” Gerri even managed a smile. “Yes. I must. I’m sure that’s what she would want. And you’ll help me, won’t you?” It hadn’t been really a question. More a clinging to a lifeline.
Elizabeth sighed and drained the last from her teacup, wishing she had brought the whole pot with her. But recalling last evening’s convers
ation brought back to her mind her promise to Gerri. “Of course we’ll help you. We’ll do anything we can,” she had assured the distraught girl.
And so she had agreed to meet Gerri in the library first thing in the morning. Well, too late for the “first thing” part, but she could at least show up. No matter how little she felt like undertaking anything academic today.
In the library, she was surprised to find not only Gerri, her head bowed over a book, but also Richard, already hard at work. “Hi, you. I thought you were out for a morning stroll.” She rested her hand on his shoulder.
“Hi yourself, sleepyhead. Actually, I did do a turn around the garden. Afraid I was up with the birds. Then it seemed the only sensible thing was to get stuck into this.”
“Right. Nothing to do but carry on, is there?” Elizabeth had to keep assuring herself of that. Nothing made sense, but if they kept on course, surely things would sort themselves out. Eventually. “So what are you reading?”
Richard turned over the volume he held in his hand. “Edward Austen-Leigh’s memoir.”
“Ah, the original edition.” Elizabeth was impressed. She had read a reprinted edition years ago, but never the full original that included Lady Susan and the fragment of The Watsons.
“Yes, Rosemary produced this for me.” He indicated the prim librarian apparently doing some research at the computer on her desk. Except for the dark circles under her eyes, she seemed to be recovered from yesterday’s shock.
“Learn anything new?” Elizabeth gestured at the memoir.
“More a reminder of what I knew. The real pleasure is holding this beautiful leather binding.”
“More satisfying than your e-reader?” she teased, then turned to Gerri with some trepidation. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing and upset her.
“You look hard at work, Gerri. I’m sorry I’m later than I said I’d be.”
When Gerri looked up, Elizabeth realized her composure wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance. “That’s all right. I couldn’t sleep. I got here before Rosemary.”
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