An Unexpected Title (Suspicious Circumstance Book 1)

by Jackie Williams

  Madeleine narrowed her eyes.

  “He knew about that too? Damnation! I swore young Aiden to secrecy after he helped me down. I’ll be having words with him later.”

  Ash laughed again.

  “Don’t be too harsh on him. I suspect the incident was very funny. I admit I admired your determination, though you would make a terrible sailor with no head for heights even if you could swear as well as one.”

  She let out a sigh.

  “This is so unfair. So one sided. I wish I knew more about you. We have been thrust together and I know nothing of you. I feel cheated. I want to know what awful things you did as a boy. There must be some. You can’t possibly be as good as you appear.”

  He puffed out his chest.

  “So you think I am good? That’s a start. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know me once we can breathe easily again. Though I am happy Leyman didn’t turn out to be the murderer, it means that we still have at least one murderer in our midst. Possibly two. It will be interesting to see who turns up at your father’s funeral.”

  “It will? Why?”

  Ash narrowed his own eyes.

  “Because I suspect that the killer will be there. I read something about it. There is a type of science making itself known. The building of a profile of a type of person. Apparently it is not a new thing. The inquisitors used similar methods to seek out heretics long ago, but this article delved further into criminal minds. Murderers often have some kind of sense of pride. They almost want to be discovered, to see the effects of their work, or to see if they can remain hidden under watchful eyes. It is like a game to them. Hide and seek with them always one step ahead of those seeking them.”

  Madeleine shuddered.

  “What you describe is horrible. And you think this type of person will attend my father’s funeral. To see if he is discovered? What a strange mind he must have.”

  “Indeed, but then you have to be strange or desperate to murder two men in cold blood.”

  Madeleine rubbed her temples again.

  “I wish this headache would go away. I cannot think clearly with it pounding so relentlessly.”

  Ash replaced her fingers with his own and massaged gently.

  “It is the tension and stress. This is a dreadful situation to be in, but Flack said that Mrs. Grenfell had made you a tonic.”

  She glanced towards the half full glass on her bedside table.

  “I did manage some, though I am not sure that it made me feel worse. It is not her usual brew. The taste is quite disgusting, and I cannot bear to feel so drowsy, especially on a day like today.”

  Ash picked up the glass and sniffed at the contents before sticking a finger in it and tasting a drop. His lips curled and he winced.

  “Ugh! Good God! Is she trying to poison you? What on earth has she made it from. Tastes like old mushrooms and laudanum mixed with a muddy puddle.” His eyes watered.

  Madeleine gave a low laugh.

  “I think you have named the ingredients exactly, though where she found a muddy puddle, I have no clue as it has not rained in days.”

  Ash rose from the bed and took the glass to the window. He opened it and threw the contents onto the flowerbed below before coming to sit back on the bed again.

  “If you need anything, take a small glass of brandy or port. That concoction was undoubtedly going to make you feel terrible. Does she have any experience with tonics of that nature? Who taught her to use such ingredients?”

  Madeleine shrugged and stifled another yawn.

  “I don’t know. She has always given us tonics if we felt we needed one. I believe she goes out early to collect wild herbs and plants. Mother swore by them to reduce her pains, and father had felt the benefits until recently.”

  “Hmm. But she has no actual medical knowledge?”

  “As much as any other, I would imagine. Many people rely on herbal remedies. Not everyone can afford qualified help.” Madeleine defended her housekeeper.

  Ash wasn’t about to let her make excuses for the woman.

  “No, but to take something that tastes like that. Was that really mushroom in it?” He sniffed at the residue left in the glass and pulled a face again. “That is truly awful. Fungi can be deadly and it is notoriously difficult to identify the harmless from the harmful. She might have made a mistake that cost you your life.”

  Madeleine’s brow furrowed.

  “She hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

  Ash looked at her incredulously.

  “That you know of. And how do you know what she is giving you is doing you any good? It might be making things worse, not better.”

  “Flack’s ankle is better!” Madeleine protested.

  Ash rolled his eyes.

  “His ankle would have healed anyway even without the soothing benefits of a mustard poultice. Besides, that is something external and unlikely to cause you harm. Taking some unidentified potion from an unqualified source is foolhardy in the extreme.”

  Madeleine stood up.

  “So now you are calling me a fool! Though why I am surprised I have no idea. You have already called me enough things to prove me correct in my wish to remain single. Men are naturally overbearing and rude. I want nothing to do with any of you!”

  Ash leapt from the bed and reached out. He took hold of her shoulders and refused to let her go when she struggled.

  “You are deliberately twisting my words to suit your preconceived ideas. We have a murderer on the loose, and I care enough about you to not want to lose you! For all we know, Mrs. Grenfell might be the murderer. She was the last to see your father alive.”

  Madeleine laughed.

  “Now who is being a fool! She has been with us for the whole of my life, since she was a housemaid. If she hated my father that much she could have found a way to do away with him years ago. Why leave it until now? No, the woman has done nothing but be a faithful servant all her life. She worked her way into position of housekeeper through hard work and loyalty. I swear that Mrs. Grenfell is the least likely person to murder anyone in the whole of England!”

  Ash took in a deep breath and was about to argue again, but stopped suddenly. He let go of Madeleine as an idea formed in his mind.

  “Who is her husband? Is he among the staff too? I don’t believe I have heard him mentioned.”

  Confusion flitted across Madeleine’s brow.

  “What?” She opened her mouth to say more, but then shut it again when she found that she didn’t have an adequate answer. “I don’t know. He has never been among the staff as far as I know. In fact, now you mention it, I don’t ever recall there being a Mr. Grenfell here.”

  “But if she came here as a housemaid, surely she must have married while working here? She is not that old. Perhaps in her early forties. When did she marry, and whom?”

  Madeleine pressed her fingers to her cheeks.

  “I don’t know. She has just always been here and I have always called her Mrs. Grenfell. My mother was the one to tell me that she had worked here since a girl, but I never thought to ask whom the woman married or why Mr. Grenfell didn’t live here with her. Perhaps he died while they were young.”

  Ash couldn’t resist.

  “From drinking a poisoned potion?”

  Madeleine let out a sigh. She didn’t have the strength to argue any longer.

  “Perhaps we should ask her rather than make silly speculations. Not that it has anything to do with my father’s murder.”

  Ash shook his head.

  “I disagree. Flack told me that Phillips had seen Mrs. Grenfell and your father kissing beneath the mistletoe last Christmas.” The slap came faster than Ash could have imagined. Her palm stung his cheek, its force whipping his head to the side. If Madeleine had been a man he wouldn’t have hesitated. His retaliation would have been swift, his retribution far outweighing the insult, reminding his assailant that he should never do anything so foolhardy again. But the sight of her heaving chest and outraged expression
distracted him.

  Madeleine followed her slap with furious words.

  “How dare you suggest that my father was having an affair with the housekeeper! He loved my mother and would never think of taking another woman!” She clutched her hand in the other and held it to her chest as pain ricocheted past her elbow and into her shoulder.

  Ash rotated his jaw and set it back in place, not sure if he should admire the power in her arm or take her over his knee and give her a good spanking for her outrageous behaviour.

  “God damn it, woman! I never suggested he didn’t love your mother, but she has been dead for three years and she had been ill for a long while before that. Men have needs. I suspect your father was different to no other!”

  Madeleine fought to breathe through her fury.

  “No! I refuse to accept that, and I can hardly believe that you can consider rumour above truth. Phillips is a good valet but also a closet drunk! He thinks that none of us knows it, but actually we all turn a blind eye. Especially as he only ever does his drinking at night and remains sober all day. He imagines all kinds of things when he is in his cups. You only have to hear him go on about that ghost he apparently saw. It’s all in his head.”

  Ash pressed the back of his hand to his cheek as he tasted blood. Her slap had caused his teeth to slice into the inside of his mouth. He pressed his tongue into the wound. The metallic taste made him wince and he swallowed it away.

  “If that is the case, it is a wonder your father kept him on.”

  Madeleine breathed more easily as it became apparent that Asher Derwent was not going to take out any physical retribution upon her.

  “Like I said, he is a good valet. My father kept regular habits and didn’t need Phillips late in the evening. They have muddled on together for years. I have already told him that you might consider him for yourself.” She still clutched her hand to her chest.

  Ash snorted.

  “I don’t hold with drinking one’s self into an early grave, and I’ve never had the need for a valet before, but there is no need to make any instant decisions. And I can’t send him away without this murder being solved. It might turn out that he did it. I cannot possibly allow a murderer free rein all over the country.” He ran frustrated fingers through his hair.

  Madeleine tilted her head to one side.

  “Are you going to accuse all the staff of having done it? What about Mary and Gertrude? Then there is Mr. Flack, Aiden, and the rest of the stable staff. And don’t forget Michael and Jimmy. They might be children but they are not half as adorable as they make out. None of them have the perfect alibi. They are mostly stating that they were in bed, and who can prove that unless they were all sleeping together. Which they weren’t!” She threw up her hands. “Perhaps you should be the one questioning them instead of Mathews. He doesn’t seem to have got very far on his own.”

  Ash shrugged.

  “It might well be worth asking my own staff what they were up to on the night of the murder. It seems that not all of them were where they said.”

  Startled, Madeleine stared at him.

  “They weren’t? Where were they, and how did you find out?”

  Ash waved her enquiry away.

  “I overheard, that’s all. Servants talk. One only has to listen.”

  Madeleine sniffed.

  “And now I sound like a complete ninny, not knowing what goes on in my own household, but I don’t. I was at finishing school for three years, and a mere child before that. My father told me nothing, showed me nothing. He let me do as I please! And that’s what I did, just because I could. You can call me spoiled if you like, but how am I expected to know what goes on here if no one tells me anything.” She threw her hands into the air and then wailed. “Ow!” Tears dripped onto her cheeks.

  He leaned forward and wiped them away with a curled finger while he lifted her injured hand. Her wrist was swelling.

  “Foolish woman! You hurt yourself more than me with that slap. Come here, we can bathe it in some cool water from your jug.”

  Madeleine reluctantly let him tug her to the dresser. He poured some into the bowl before taking a small square wash cloth and dipping it. He squeezed the excess out before wrapping it gently about Madeleine’s wrist while frowning at the ink stains on her fingertips.

  She hissed as pain lanced her, but it soon passed and the cool cloth quickly soothed her swelling flesh.

  “Thank you.”

  Ash held the bandage in place while examining her fingers again.

  “What’s all this?”

  She shrugged.

  “I was doing the accounts. It is the end of the month and you had asked me to look after everything in your absence.”

  Ash huffed a laugh.

  “Do you always get this messy when doing the accounts?”

  Madeleine let out a long breath.

  “I don’t know. I never did them before.”

  Ash’s frown became deeper.

  “But your father...”

  She shook her head, interrupting his words.

  “I fear that my father said a lot of things that he shouldn’t. I have never done the accounts in my life.”

  Ash swallowed.

  “You mean that he lied to me?” He knew his words were true without her answering. Her eyes had filled with water. “God! I am so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you if I had known.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell.

  “Don’t worry, I soon learned. It is not as difficult as some make out. Simply a matter of balancing the payments against the invoices and having enough money in your purse.

  Ash looked at her thoughtfully. His cheek still stung. He caught sight of the angry red mark as he glanced in her dresser mirror.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered as her eyes followed his gaze. “I just reacted. Your words made me so angry.”

  Ash unwrapped the temporary dressing and put it back to cool in the water.

  “You can pack a powerful wallop. It is as well that my jaw is solid. You might have felled another man.” He wrapped her wrist again and held it gently.

  Madeleine’s face paled.

  “Don’t say that. I don’t want suspicions cast towards me.”

  Ash shook his head gravely.

  “No, we don’t, but you might cast them upon yourself if you cannot control your temper.”

  It sounded as though he were speaking to a child. Perhaps he thought she was. She had certainly been acting in a childish manner. The thought appalled her and embarrassment coloured her cheeks crimson. It couldn’t happen again. Her old life of spoilt selfishness was over. Now was the time for change.

  She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly as she smiled nervously up at Asher wondering if she should make a suggestion. Would he take complete control, striding ahead and pushing her opinions and ideas aside? Her father had. He had assumed that she was testing boundaries, going against a trend just because she had an indulgent father who let her. He had thought her wild, strange, different. A curiosity that no one but her parents could love. Would Asher think the same?

  He looked at her expectantly, a hint of nervousness in his own eyes, and it suddenly dawned on her that he might well be feeling just as out of his depth. The man had been an earl all of four days. Though he had corresponded with her father over the years, the suddenness of his rise in status cannot have been easy. She lowered her gaze and ran her tongue across dry lips before speaking.

  “I am so sorry. I could blame my behaviour on my grief over my father’s death, but in truth I have had my own way for far too long. I have behaved like a childish, spoiled brat and the responsibility of my position and yours, is only just dawning upon me.”

  Her responsibility and position? A spoiled brat? A child? Ash couldn’t think straight. She looked nothing like a child. His brain felt as though it were full of fog. He swallowed and tried to concentrate as he stared at the moisture clinging to her lips, fighting the need to take her in his arms and devour her. S
he was so beautiful, so desirable. And she was his wife! He could have her, take as he wanted. Right now on the very bed in her room! The thought nearly floored him.

  She looked up at him again. Her eyelashes fluttered, his silence clearly unnerving her more. He almost wished he hadn’t assured her that he expected nothing of her. Though he might have meant it when they first met, he certainly didn’t now. She had impressed him more than he thought possible. But his needs would have to wait, if they were ever satisfied at all. They had a funeral to attend, guests to entertain. A murder to solve. He tightened his grip on her hand again.

  “Though I have known that this would happen for some time, you are right. The responsibility does lay heavily upon me. We must not fight or argue. We have to take control of the situation. Mathews might be a good man, but he has never dealt with anything of this nature. I know that we haven’t either, but we must rise to the occasion and discover all we can to assist him.”

  He wanted them to work together? Madeleine felt the constriction in her heart loosen and the tension drained away from her. She gave a tentative smile.

  “Yes, we must. We are the only ones in a position to do it. Perhaps if we conduct interviews with the staff again we might get further than Mathews. At least if we can verify exactly what each was doing, at the very least we all might trust one another again. As it is, everyone is walking about as if standing on a basket of eggs.”

  Ash nodded, but then paused, thinking.

  “We should do this in a more informal way. If we simply talk to the staff while they go about their business, they may open up and we may discover more. As I am the newcomer it will be more difficult for me, but I believe I have already built a rapport with Mr. Flack. I can also get close to Mr. Phillips quite easily under the pretence of interviewing him for the job as my new valet. I would also like to speak more to young Aiden. He has valuable information about Thomas Leyman that we might be able to use.”

  She nodded.

  “I will tackle Mrs. Grenfell, the maids, and cook. I think we can dismiss the idea that Michael and Jimmy had anything to do with either murder. They might be mischievous, but I doubt they are killers.”