The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1)

by Ashworth, Heidi

  “In other words, nobody out of the ordinary?” I prompted.

  “Precisely,” she said with confidence.

  “Are you quite certain, Mrs. Lynne, that none of them could have been in a position to take the key without your knowledge?”

  “Few of them get past the threshold, my lord. However, it could have been any of the servants. They have all been questioned at great length by Bugg and myself, but we have arrived at no conclusions.”

  “We shall be certain to question each of them, as well,” I assured her. “Think carefully: was there anyone else who had access to those keys that day?”

  Mrs. Lynne closed her eyes and bowed her head. Just when I feared she knew nothing else of import, she raised her head and smiled in triumph. “Yes, there were several deliveries that day: the girl with the vegetables, and a boy who brought in a box of sundries such as sugar and flour. They both entered the kitchen and stayed for a chat. There was also Throckmorton; he came by to request the recipe for Cook’s jugged hare. Lady Vawdrey relishes it so.”

  “Señyor Rey,” I mused. “Please make a note: we needs must question Mr. Throckmorton as to his memories of that day. Thank you, Mrs. Lynne; you have been most useful. I find I have only one more question for you: who knows when Master John was abed the night before he died and at what time?”

  “Mr. Huther sees to it that the young master is abed. His mother generally checks in on him before she departs for whatever entertainment she attends of an evenin’.”

  “Very good,” I said. “That will be all.”

  As the sound of jangling keys followed Mrs. Lynne from the room, Rey and I shared a pensive glance. There wasn’t the time to exchange our views regarding her testimony, as a thin man, his face sharply reminiscent of a rabbit, appeared in the doorway. As his attire was that of a gentleman, I surmised him to be the tutor.

  “Please be seated, Mr. Huther. I apologize for the delicacy of the room, but I shall not complain if you do not.”

  Mr. Huther offered no reply as he entered, but his nose twitched a bit as he sank into the proffered chair under the weight of my insistent stare. I was quite certain I had never clapped eyes on such a timid specimen, and then I noticed the tutor’s black armband and recalled that this was a house in mourning.

  “Mr. Huther,” I said with as much compassion as I dared; I had no wish to induce tears in the man. “I am Trevelin, and this is Señyor Rey of Barcelona. It is my understanding that you serve as the tutor in the household.”

  “I have done.” Mr. Huther twisted his hands together in his lap. “I have been dismissed. Tonight shall be my last in this house.”

  I turned to take note of Rey’s expression on the heels of such a revelation, and was satisfied to find him as surprised as I. Turning again to Mr. Huther, I asked “Do you go far?”

  The tutor looked up; his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. “I have no place to go.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  He did not immediately reply. “I have not been given a reference,” he said slowly.

  I refused to allow the jolt of shock that went through me to show on my face. “Pray tell, for what cause?”

  “You must inquire of the mistress for I am sure I do not know.”

  I rather suspected Mr. Huther knew the reason well enough, but refrained from speaking the thought aloud. “Seynor Rey, please write down the question to ensure that I put it accurately to Mrs. Gilbert when next I speak with her.”

  As Rey bent to his work, I studied the tutor’s reaction. He sat frozen in place, staring at the scratching of the pencil against parchment, the sound of which seemed to dwarf every other. When Rey finished, and looked up with a gentle smile, the tutor offered the ghost of one in return. I, however, did not fail to note how Mr. Huther’s brow was beaded with sweat and his chin trembled in a manner unbecoming to any but the youngest of maidens.

  “Mr. Huther, I have been told that you were always the last to bid goodnight to Master John. Was that the case the night before he died?”

  Mr. Huther’s face turned white, and he pressed his folded hands against his stomach as if it pained him. “Yes. That is, I believed myself to be the last to see him.”

  “What can you mean?” I asked in some impatience.

  The tutor’s face flamed red and he all, but jumped from his seat. “Who are you to pose such questions? Why, you look as if you cannot have quit university more than a twelvemonth past! I am not suspected by those who are in authority, and I cannot imagine why their good opinion of me is not adopted by all in this house.”

  I could feel Rey’s agitation as he rose to his feet. “Do you dare to speak so to a Peer of the Realm? My lord is a man most important, a marquis, and you must treat him with the honor due him!”

  This was the most surprising revelation of all. It would seem that Rey’s opinion of me had experienced a sea change. “It is quite all right, Señyor Rey. I have been accused of far worse than an abundance of youth,” I added with a wry smile. It is true, Mr. Huther, that I came into my marquisate at a tender age, but it is not due to my position in the world that I am here today; it is as Mister William’s oldest friend. I have no knowledge of any who suspect you of this vile deed, and question you only in hopes of learning something that will lead to his release. We can only ask for your cooperation and hope that you have the leisure to endure us for a while longer.”

  “If you insist,” Mr. Huther said patiently, though the expression in his eyes revealed his resentment.

  “Very good. Again, I ask you to explain your previous remark. Were you or were you not the last to see Master John?”

  “His mother usually speaks to him after I have bid him goodnight, before she goes out for the evening,” the tutor replied grudgingly.

  “At what hour did that occur?”

  Mr. Huther took a deep breath and folded his hands once more across his stomach. “She went out somewhat earlier than is her habit when in town. I believe it was near to eight. Master John generally retires; that is,” he amended tearfully, “retired just after they have spoken. That occurs most nights about nine. I check on him again perhaps an hour or so later, before I blow out my candle.”

  “And on this particular night? Did you do as usual?”

  “Yes.” An unaccountable misery washed over Mr. Huther’s face with this admission. “I thought he was asleep…in his bed…I saw him there. Only, it wasn’t him.”

  I jerked in surprise. “It wasn’t him? Who was it then, pray tell?”

  “It was no one.” The tutor’s eyes grew moist.

  “First you say it was someone,” Rey demanded, “and then you say it was no one. Do you mean to say it was a fantasma that you saw?

  “Of course not,” I insisted. “Mr. Huther has far more sense than to believe in ghosts. I suspect Master John was up to some form of chicanery. What was it: a bolster under the blankets and a Punch or Judy puppet on the pillow, perhaps?”

  “An old periwig from the attic,” Mr. Huther said as he drew a trembling hand across his brow, “draped over a globe from the schoolroom.”

  Pensive, I ran a finger across my bottom lip. “When did you discover he had deceived you?”

  “Not until I learned what had happened to the poor boy. You can just imagine the hue and cry that arose in the household. I dashed below stairs with naught but a coat over my night-shirt.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “I saw him lying there in a pool of blood,” Mr. Huther replied, his voice hollow. “He was dressed as if he had never been to bed. I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t make sense of it. I ran back upstairs to see if he was not where I had last seen him.” He frowned. “I fear it makes me appear quite irrational to say so, but my mind could not accept that he was truly dead. I had seen him fast asleep!”

  “And that is when you discovered how he had betrayed your trust?”

  “Yes.” The tutor nodded. “When I opened the door, I knew I had been right; it wasn’t Master J
ohn lying dead in the vestibule after all. There he was, right before my eyes, lying in bed just as he had been the night before. I called his name, and when he didn’t answer I went to the bed and pulled back the blankets. It was only then that I truly understood that he was gone.”

  I considered carefully before posing my next question. “Do you suppose that was the first time he had practiced such deceit? Cast your mind over the past: could he have done this before?”

  Mr. Huther looked up at me, visibly irritated. “How should I know? If he had, I failed to perceive it. One sees what one expects to, is that not so?”

  “Indeed, it is,” I concurred. I had certainly seen my villainous cousin as a fine fellow before I learned otherwise. “If you have nothing more to add, you are free to go.”

  Mr. Huther rose immediately to his feet. “I do not,” he said, rising. He went to the door and quit the room, without even the cursory bow that was due a marquis.

  “For a man with nowhere to go, he seems most eager to shed himself of this house,” Rey observed. “Why did you not press him as to the reason for his dismissal without a reference?”

  “I am as eager to know the answer to that question as you are. In the meantime, I am hoping Mr. Bugg shall prove more loquacious on the subject.”

  Rey’s face lit up with approval. “Then, I anticipate his interview with pleasure.”

  Chapter Four

  Next to enter the room, however, was not the butler. Rather it was the upstairs maid, followed by the lesser servants who had nothing illuminating to add, and who answered most questions with a simple yes or no. Even the valet had nothing of value to say, except to verify Mrs. Lynne’s account regarding Willy’s difficulties in changing his attire. By the time the butler hesitatingly hovered over the indicated chair, I felt weary of the whole business.

  “I assure you, Mr. Bugg, it is quite unobjectionable for you to sit in my presence,” I insisted. “If it eases your discomfort, I shall sit as well.” I couldn’t say why I had chosen to stand whilst questioning the other servants; perhaps I fancied it imbued me with an increased superiority, an essential quality in such an endeavor.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Mr. Bugg intoned as he took his seat.

  I sat as well, choosing a teetering over-stuffed stool that added nothing to my consequence. “Mr. Bugg, you have waited on me on any number of occasions, both in town and at the Gilberts’ country estate, over the course of many years. You have given your master no reason to dismiss you. In short, you are a man who can be trusted.”

  “I do hope so, my lord,” the butler agreed.

  “As such, you are the position to know the answers to many questions, all of which I intend to put to you before the day is done.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Mr. Bugg said, without a flicker of either humor or annoyance.

  I put to him first the usual question as to the key, with no new results.

  “Very good,” I said. “Let us begin with the matter of Mr. Huther. Why is it that he has been dismissed without a reference?”

  “He failed utterly in his duty to monitor his charge,” the butler said unblinkingly.

  “By this statement am I to assume that Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert blame him for Master John’s death?”

  “Only in the respect that they feel he neglected his duties.”

  I frowned. “Do you refer to his failure to detect that Master John had placed a bolster in his bed in order to mislead his tutor into believing he was asleep?”

  The butler cleared his throat in what proved to be the first sign of his hesitation. “That news was not well received by the master and mistress. However, it is a minor indiscretion compared to others in the past.”

  “We have come to the heart of the matter at long last,” I said with a glance over my shoulder at Rey. “Do proceed, Mr. Bugg.”

  “I fear that it would be revealing more than Mr. Gilbert should wish.”

  “I am in awe of your sense of duty, Mr. Bugg. However, if you know something that might serve to prove Mister William’s innocence, should not Mr. Gilbert be naught but grateful?”

  The butler’s countenance cleared. “Yes. As I most fervently believe in Mister William’s innocence, I find that I cannot dismiss the logic of your argument.”

  “Very well, then,” I said with a flourish of my hand. “On the subject of Mr. Huther’s indiscretions, do tell.”

  The butler’s shoulders relaxed visibly and he settled more deeply into his seat. “He often left Master John to his own devices. In addition, he was known to leave the house when he was meant to be teaching lessons. It is believed that he frequented a place where his addictions could be sated.”

  “Indeed! What addictions might those be?” I asked.

  “I could not say specifically. I only know that he felt compelled to depart the house when he did not have leave to do so. Whether he went to a house of drink, a gaming house, an opium den, or somewhere worse, I cannot say.”

  “As head of the staff, was it not your duty to discover what Mr. Huther was about?” I asked, somewhat incredulous.

  “My authority does not extend to the tutor. He reports directly to Mr. Gilbert.”

  “Of course, but did you not feel it your duty to inform Mr. Gilbert of your suspicions?”

  “Yes, my lord. I did, indeed, report all that I knew to be fact when it came to Mr. Huther.”

  “Then how is it that he was not dismissed?”

  “I believe it was on Mrs. Gilbert’s account that he was allowed to stay.”

  I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why should that be so?” I dared not suggest that Mrs. Gilbert felt anything inappropriate regarding the tutor; Mr. Bugg would never betray his mistress so.

  “No exact reason of which I am aware,” he began slowly. “Only that the idea of dismissing him caused her some distress.”

  “Mr. Bugg, I assure you that I am fully cognizant of how improper it would be to air your opinion on this matter. However, I am persuaded you have one. On behalf of Mister William, will you not share it with us now? I swear never to divulge what you have said if it can be helped.”

  The butler hung his head and nodded. “Very well, my lord. You are correct in that I have puzzled over the matter myself. The only reason of which I could conceive as to her wish to keep him on would be to alleviate her anxiety over her young son. She is…was very protective of him. It is well known in the household that it was the mistress who refused to send him off to school. More recently, I believe she felt that a change in tutor would be too disruptive.”

  I felt that the butler’s observations tallied very well with what I had learned from Mr. Gilbert’s own lips, and very nearly spoke my thoughts aloud. However, it would never do to divulge such information to Bugg, in spite of his keen observations of the truth.

  “Very well. Señyor Rey, please make a note to question Mrs. Gilbert as to her reasons for keeping Mr. Huther on.”

  Mr. Bugg’s face revealed his alarm at this request.

  “Rest assured, Mr. Bugg, we shall not air your opinions on the matter, but rather hope that she reveals the truth without further prompting.”

  The butler drew a deep breath. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Now,” I said briskly, “we are interested to know if a bloody shirt, one that would have belonged to Mister William, was found anywhere on the premises the morning of Master John’s death.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Was there any blood between where Master John lay and the front door? Or a trail of blood leading anywhere else for that matter?”

  “Yes. There was what looked to be the result of a light trickle of blood from the. . .” The butler hesitated. With a hard swallow, he continued, “the body, through the hall, out the front door, and out onto the street. That is where Mister William was found holding the knife.”

  “Indeed, that is to be expected. So, there were no pools of blood or bloody footsteps or any such evidences that Master John had been stabbed anyplace other than wh
ere he was found?”

  “Precisely, though I fear that I have said something amiss. Mister William was found holding the knife, that much is true. But there is no possibility that he could have killed his brother.”

  “And why is that, Mr. Bugg?”

  “Because he would not. He loved his brother. In addition, he did not possess the coordination of muscles. He still has some strength in the one arm; that is not the trouble. It is his lack of ability to do a proper job of it, what with the tremors he endures.”

  “Yes, I comprehend you completely. May I enquire as to the state of Mister William’s shirt when he was taken away by the constable?”

  “It was the same shirt he had donned before retiring the night prior,” he said, clearly bewildered. “At least I presumed it to be.”

  “I understand that the constable and the boot boy helped him to don his breeches and the rest before being led away. Was that your observation?”

  “Yes, indeed. I was prepared to do it, but the constable had ordered the boot boy to assist him; though I am persuaded he regretted his choice, he did not alter his course. He looked to be a man who does not enjoy being in the wrong, a circumstance at which he must have had much experience. It was an unpleasant scene, to be sure, as neither had any idea as how to go about it correctly. I believe it caused Mister William no small amount of humiliation.”

  Several moments passed before I could trust my voice to operate as it should. The disgrace Willy would have felt must have been past bearing. I took a deep breath and forged on. “Indeed. It pains me to even hear of it. Do I assume correctly that it is you who most often assists him with changes of clothing?”

  “When he cannot manage on his own, it is either his father or I who aids him. At times, the valet assists as well.”

  “Am I right to assume that Mister William has as much trouble with a shirt as any other item of apparel?”

  “Yes, absolutely. His father generally helps him to change before going out for the evening.”