by Wendy Vella
Mr Barker, Prudence, and Mrs Baker gaped at Lord Raikes.
“But . . . but . . . the gardener is a hundred, at least,” Prudence stuttered.
Using his little finger, Richard wiped a bit of black coal from his teeth, and wiggling his fingers in front of Prudence’s face, said, “It is a disguise, my dear.”
“I do not know what is going on this house — robberies, murders, Earls pretending to be servants. I want to leave,” Mrs Barker moaned.
“You forgot blackmail,” Prudence muttered.
A deathly silence fell in the room. Everyone looked uncomfortable, and Prudence finally got up and left the room.
“I can’t eat a bite,” Catherine said, staring at her plate.
“Have some chocolate,” Emma coaxed.
She pushed the offered cup away.
Lord Raikes took Catherine’s hand and softly murmured in her ear.
She nodded distractedly and allowed him to lead her outside.
The others watched the couple depart, and for once no one dared to mention chaperones.
***
“Lady Arden, I am sorry for your loss,” Lord Raikes said as soon as they had escaped to the gardens and away from listening ears.
She nodded mutely.
“I know you had your differences, but you spent the most time with her. I can understand how hard this is for you.”
“All I can think of,” she replied, trembling with emotion, “is how I disliked her during those last few days of her life. I forgot about all her care and companionship simply because . . . because she didn’t want me socialising. I wish I had been nicer to her or told her how much she meant to me.”
He did not know how to reply or offer comfort. He simply walked in silence until they found a bench and sat down.
Lord Raikes waited until Catherine stopped weeping into her handkerchief. Once he was assured she had recovered her composure, he said, “I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you, but I am afraid you will hate me more if you hear it from the Duke. I would like a chance to explain.”
She looked at him blankly.
He bravely plodded on, “I am trying to search for the right words,” he paused, and then said, “you are . . . umm . . . engaged, My Lady.”
“Who is engaged?” she asked, confused.
“You are.”
“Me? I don’t understand. I am engaged, and I don’t know it?”
“No, you see . . . you were engaged this morning.”
“What do you mean by engaged? Am I engaged for some outing?”
“Err . . . you are betrothed to a man.”
That snapped her out of her grief momentarily. She stared at him in astonishment.
“The Duke informed me of it this morning,” he continued uncomfortably.
“He told you that I am engaged to a man? To whom?”
“Me,” he replied sheepishly.
Her mouth dropped open in shock, and she leapt up and said, “Are you jesting, My Lord?”
He shook his head.
“Did you ask for my hand?”
“Err . . . not exactly . . . I was also informed that I am engaged to you.”
“But how could he do this without consulting either of us?”
“That was my fault.”
She glared at him, “I thought as much. Please explain clearly, My Lord, before I scream in frustration.”
“Well, you see, the Duke, from the very beginning knew that I was not Richard.”
She nodded in satisfaction, “I would have warned Emma had she taken me into confidence. Nothing escapes my father,” she shot him a scathing look and continued, “but how did that translate into our engagement?”
“I told him that I was in your bedchamber last night.”
“You did what!”
“He needed to know our whereabouts. I had to be honest. He is, after all, trying to discover the murderer,” Lord Raikes pleaded.
She clenched her fists, desperately wanting to whack him on the head.
“It is a bit of a pickle,” he muttered under his breath.
“Being engaged to me is a pickle?” she asked, offended.
“No, I want to marry you but not like this!”
“Humph, you do not look pleased with the news, and I assure you, neither am I. Do not worry, I will cry off and release you from this . . . this pickle, as you call it.”
“No, Catherine, please, I am happy, but I was not sure of your feelings. I did not want to force this on you, and the Duke will not let you cry off. He has asked for a special license, and he wants to see us married as soon as possible. I wanted to woo you, as is your right.”
“I did not give you leave to use my name, My Lord,” she replied agitatedly.
“You are now my fiancé, soon to be my bride. I have every right to use your name, Catherine.”
She glared at him in annoyance. She was confused, a multitude of feelings racing through her. Her grief and the news of her engagement . . . it was all too much to take in.
She searched his face, trying to find answers to her questions. Her gaze lingered on his deep blue eyes fringed with dark lashes and then travelled lower, stopping at his lips. She blushed and looked away.
He took her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.
“I am sorry that this happened. The murder, the sudden betrothal, the charade, but I am not sorry that I am attracted to you, care for you, or that inevitably we will be married, no matter what.”
She couldn’t help it. She smiled and he bent to kiss it away.
***
The Duke picked at his breakfast, choosing to eat in the library rather than face the rest of the household. He was angry, since no one except his daughter had felt any grief at the senseless death of his sister. They were all pleased that she had been done away with.
Nutters was a coldly professional man and a stranger. He saw the whole thing as a job. No one could share in his grief. He did not think even his daughter felt the same despair as he did. He crumbled his toast and frowned unhappily.
His sister had been blackmailing a number of people, and he felt he was to blame. He had not provided enough for her, observed any tension in her, or noticed her need for money. She had chosen not to confide in him, which had led to her gruesome death.
Was he so intimidating, he wondered?
His reverie was broken an hour later when Nutters entered the room carrying a piece of paper. He had jotted down notes against each name.
The Duke picked up the sheet of paper and read the contents:
Emma
No motive
Her alibis are Pickering and the Earl
She was out of bed at the time of the murder
Lord Richard Hamilton
No motive
His alibis are Pickering and Emma
He was out of bed at the time of the murder
Lord William Raikes
No motive
Alibi is Catherine
Briefly out of bed at the time of the murder
Prudence Barker
Strong motive
No alibi
Out of bed at the time of the murder
Mrs Barker
Has a motive
Possibly last to see the victim alive
Was in the room of the victim around the time of the murder
Mr Barker
Has a motive
Out of bed at the time of the murder
No alibi
The Duke glanced through the notes, and his mouth pursed in distaste at the impersonal way Nutters had referred to his sister as a victim.
He roughly pushed the paper away and rang for Emma to join them.
“How is Catherine doing?” the Duke asked Emma as soon as she arrived.
“She is distressed, uncle, but that is to be expected.”
“I understand you spent the night with the Earl.”
Emma blushed, though did not seem surprised by the question. The Earl must have warned her.
/> “We did not kill her,” she replied, ignoring his question.
“I know you disliked her and are confused as to why I kept her on as a chaperone to my daughter, when she was clearly unsuitable. I will tell you in the evening when we all assemble together, since I need to explain myself to everyone. I do not want to repeat myself.”
Emma did not say anything, and he read her disapproval correctly.
“Emma, my daughter, is distressed, and my wife cannot cope in such circumstances. I am looking to you to help keep the peace in this house. I want you to handle the household. Can you do that for me?”
“I am at your disposal, Your Grace.”
“I want you to do this as my niece, not because I, as a Duke, command you. I am requesting you, and you can refuse.”
Emma softened her tone as she replied, “I know, I will do my best.”
“Thank you,” he said gratefully.
She smiled at him before she left.
“Not much to add here,” Nutters commented.
“No, I know her well, and she is not someone who would stab someone in the back. If she did kill someone, it would be a knife in the stomach, with the person wide awake and aware of what was coming.”
Nutters shivered uneasily and dipped his quill in the ink and waited for the next person to arrive.
“Catherine, I am sorry, I know how upset you are, but I want to get this over with as soon as possible,” the Duke said, handing her a cup of hot sweet coffee.
“It’s all right father. I . . . ,” her mouth trembled, and she visibly forced herself to calm down before she continued, “I did not like her, but I never hated her enough to kill her.”
“Yet you grieve?”
“I have spent a long time with her, more hours than with anyone else, and I know she genuinely cared for me. My feelings towards her have only changed recently, and part of it is because I wanted to be young and meet people my own age. I had always been happy with my books, until the last few years. I feel selfish now for disliking her for such a petty reason. She held my hand when I ailed and soothed me if I cried. She had been like a mother, I suppose. You may not like your mother, but you cannot help but love her either.”
“Yet, for three years she kept you imprisoned within these walls. You knew part of the reason your season was delayed was because she had objected. She convinced me to keep you home. She alienated all your friends. In the end, she made sure that you had no one to turn to except her. It was a sort of obsessive, destructive love. The only one who firmly stuck by you was Emma. She refused to be cowed by my sister.”
Catherine stared at her father’s harsh face in shock. She had been unaware that he knew so much of what went on in her mind. With her shock fading swiftly, she became angry.
“Why did you let her stay in this house?” she demanded.
“I will tell you but not now. I want you to answer me first.”
“Yes, I started hating her restrictions and yours, but that does not mean I will murder you tomorrow. It was your fault more than hers that I was in such a situation. You made her my chaperone, and you knew her best. If there is anyone to blame, then it is you,” she sobbed.
“I agree,” he said sadly. He came around and took her in his arms. “Hush now, I am sorry for being so harsh. I had to be sure. You may live with a person for years on end without knowing them. I had never conceived the notion that my sister would one day resort to blackmail. In anger, you spoke the truth, and that is all I wanted,” he soothed.
“You believe me then, that I did not kill her?”
The Duke did not reply or meet her eyes.
She stared in disbelief at her father and slowly stood. She barely curtsied before walking out of the room. She kept her head high until she closed the door of the library.
The Duke pulled the sheet with suspects closer. He dipped his quill and wrote:
Catherine
She had a motive
Her alibi is Lord Raikes
Out of bed at the time of the murder.
“You trust Emma and not your own daughter?” Nutters enquired, baffled.
“Emma had to bear my sister’s company only briefly during her visits. She thought of her as an odious woman, and her presence did not affect her life, whereas Catherine lived with her every single day and had more to gain from her death. She knew I would never let my sister go. She was, after all, part of the family.”
Nutters rang for the Duchess instead of commenting any further.
The Duchess strolled in serenely and artfully arranged herself on the chair.
“Would you like some tea?” the Duke asked, buying time.
“I should be asking you if you would like tea. After all, that is my job,” she said, amused.
Nutters mentally slotted the Duchess as insensitive.
The Duke, in turn, ignored her jesting mood. He spoke coldly, “Were you out of bed last night?”
“What time?” she asked, still smiling.
“After midnight.”
“Yes, I was. I often walk around the house at night as you know. Last night was especially momentous, since I saw a strange vision of a man walking down the hallway. I followed him hoping to speak to him. He did not look like my father, so I think it was one of your ancestors visiting. Spirits have a way of knowing when a tragedy is about to strike a family. They must have come to give Esther support.”
Nutters choked on his tea. He glanced in alarm at the Duke who ignored him.
“What did this man look like?”
“He was tall and blonde. I only saw his back, before he disappeared into the darkness.”
“I see, did you have any reason to dislike Esther?”
“Yes, I never liked her. She was nosy and controlling. She always thought she was better than me, since I do not come from an aristocratic family. She never liked the fact that you married someone below your station. She would have preferred if you had kept me on as a mistress.”
Nutters made another strangled sound.
“Are you about to die on us? Is the tea poisoned?” she enquired mildly, glancing at Nutters.
“The tea is fine,” the Duke snapped.
“So, how did she die?” the Duchess asked, yawning.
“She was stabbed,” he said shortly and then asked, “Did you do it?”
“I wouldn’t ask how she died if I had done it, now would I? What sort of knife was it?”
“A butcher’s knife,” the Duke replied shortly.
“Ah, the spirits knew,” the Duchess said triumphantly.
“What do you mean?” Nutters asked, sitting up.
“Why, I think that blonde vision was giving me a sign. I distinctly saw some sort of blade in his hand. The candle I held reflected off its surface. I thought it was a sword and the man from the dark ages. But now I see it was a warning for what was to come. I told you all a danger was coming, and no one believed me. They are often vague in their signs, and only when a thing comes to pass do you realise what they meant.”
Nutters looked visibly excited at this news.
“Do you have anything else to add, anything further to tell me?” the Duke asked, ignoring Nutters.
“No”
“You may leave.”
The Duchess floated out of the room. She still wore her white robe over her nightdress. She presumably wanted to return to bed.
“She saw the murderer!” Nutters exclaimed as soon as the door closed.
“It is possible,” the Duke said thoughtfully.
“A tall blonde man . . . that fits only one person, and that is the Earl.”
“You are wrong. It also fits the next person we are going to speak to, Joe the under-gardener,” the Duke corrected.
“He is our man!”
“Let us first speak to him and then decide. Don’t throw your list into the fire just yet, Nutters.”
A handsome young man entered the room. His clothes were cheap, and mud stains splattered his shoes. Dark shadows stood stark in h
is white face. He stood nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. He clutched his hat in a deathly grip.
The Duke indicated the chair, and he hesitatingly did as he was bid. He sat.
“This is Mr Nutters, and he will be here during the entire conversation. You may speak freely in front of him.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Em, who do you suppose did it?” the Earl asked.
The two couples had met in the empty music room to go over the day’s discoveries.
“I am not sure, though I think it could be . . . Prudence? She had the most to lose,” Emma replied.
“Do you think she is capable of murder?” Catherine asked dubiously.
“I think anyone is capable of murder if cornered,” Lord Raikes replied.
“Even the Duke,” the Earl said, with a sideward glance at Catherine. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Emma heard him threatening Lady Babbage. We also know he was in some sort of difficulty, since we read his letter to Nutters. He had even stated in one of the letters that he was no longer sure what action he may take, since the situation was so dire,” the Earl said.
“What about Mr Barker?” Lord Raikes broke in, catching sight of his fiancée’s distressed face.
“He was scared of a mouse. I doubt he could murder anyone,” Emma scoffed.
Lord Raikes leaned forward in his seat. “Mr Barker is in financial difficulty, and how can we be sure that Lady Babbage had nothing against him as well? He was deeply troubled and tried to involve me in some grand speculation. He was forced to appeal to an acquaintance for money. And he may have been aware of Prudence’s situation. He would not want his daughter’s name ruined either. He may not care about her, but he does care about his own reputation,” He frowned thoughtfully, “The same holds true for Mrs Barker. It is more likely that she became aware of Prudence’s condition.”
“I can imagine Mrs Barker wielding a knife but not her daughter or even her husband,” Catherine mused. “Did you notice that man . . . not Nutters, the other one? I think he was the under-gardener. I wonder why he was invited?”
The Earl proceeded to fill Catherine in. She had been unaware of her aunt’s attempts to blackmail the Earl and all that Lady Babbage had revealed of her association with Joe. It had slipped everyone’s mind due to the events of the day.
She heard him out in silence.