The snow was so heavy.
Heavens.
This was utterly dreadful.
And not working.
She heard footsteps and curses behind her.
“Get her,” Lady Audrey yelled.
Cora’s heart sped, and she struggled on this new terrain.
She’d only seen snow for the first time this week. And now she was rushing about in it. The snow reached past her knees. The ground was not sturdy, and she moved far too slowly.
In the next moment, she felt strong arms reach against her. She was lifted up and was being carried toward the moat.
“Randolph!” Cora screamed again, hoping against hope. “Help!”
A gloved hand covered her mouth.
She looked desperately for a servant, but everyone had left.
No one was going to rescue her, just like no one had rescued Gladys, and no one had rescued the duke who’d died in his own bed, at the hand of his own son.
Cora kept her eyes open.
Was this the last light she would see?
The last snow, the last sky, the last wall, the last—
The last moment of life.
Her heart continued to race, and then she flew through the air and plunged into icy water.
She struggled to swim despite her heavy coat.
The water stung her eyes. She tried to see, tried to orient herself.
It must be so dirty—though that was the least of her concerns.
Her lungs burned. She needed air.
She tried to swim up—but where was the surface?
Panic flayed through her. There was only ice around her.
Her lungs—
Cora moved up, breaking through the surface.
It was air.
She inhaled, gasping, but in the next moment, someone thrust her back into the water.
This was it, this was the end.
A splash sounded in the distance.
Poor Randolph would hang for the murder of Gladys and the Duke of Hawley if they didn’t decide to continue framing Veronica.
Horror rushed through her, and once again, her lungs burned.
She needed to get free.
She needed to warn them.
She kicked hard, trying to find her way to the surface, but she was so tired, so cold, her lungs ached, and—
A strong hand grabbed onto Cora.
She was being dragged up to the surface, toward the light, toward life itself.
She broke through the barrier, dodging the floating ice.
Cora inhaled.
“I have you,” a voice said.
Randolph.
She stared up at him. “Y-you saved me.”
“What do you think you are doing?” Edmund growled.
“Rescuing her,” Randolph said. “You animal.”
In the next moment, Randolph struck Edmund on his jaw, and they tumbled into the snow together.
Cora’s heart raced. Where was Lady Audrey?
She was approaching.
Rushing to stop them.
Rushing to help her lover.
Cora wasn’t going to let that happen.
With all her remaining strength, Cora yanked hold of Lady Audrey’s leg and pulled her downward.
She was still coughing, still sputtering—and now Lady Audrey was on top of her.
Lady Audrey was strong, and iron arms gripped around Cora’s body.
Cora was still disoriented from the experience of being submerged in the icy moat.
She’d thought she was going to die.
Cora was too close to the moat now, and she struggled against her assailant.
“Help,” Cora screamed. “Help!”
“What on earth is this racket?” a new voice boomed.
Wexley.
Hope rushed through Cora.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Edmund said. “This man escaped.”
“No!” Cora exclaimed. “The duke is the murderer!”
“Nonsense—” Edmund said, but Randolph took the opportunity to strike a blow to the duke’s jaw.
“That’s enough.” The butler strolled into the snow, not seeming to mind that his livery was being destroyed.
He yanked Randolph away from Edmund.
“Inside. Both of you. Now.” The butler glowered at them. “We are going to wait for the police to arrive.”
“Yes,” Edmund said. “Thank you. I’ll go see if I can find them.” He jerked a finger at Randolph. “This man needs to be locked up again.”
“No,” Cora shrieked again.
“I can explain everything,” Randolph said.
The butler removed a pistol and directed it at them. “I don’t know whom to believe.”
“Wexley!” Edmund said, clearly shocked. “Is that one of my pistols?”
The butler blushed. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but after poor Gladys’s murder it occurred to me that I would feel rather safer with that in my breast pocket.”
“But you stole.”
“Borrowed,” Wexley said. “And we are still on the premises.”
“Well, stop pointing it at me,” Edmund sputtered.
Wexley retained a steady grip on the pistol. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. But I’m not going to take anyone’s side without knowing all the facts.”
“That does make sense,” Lady Audrey said smoothly. “Would you like me to fetch the police? Obviously I would never have killed anyone.” She laughed.
“Don’t believe her,” Cora said quickly.
“I won’t,” Wexley said. “Miss Clarke, please change from those wet clothes. And bring blankets for everyone.”
Cora nodded and hurried away, her teeth chattering fiercely.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but could not have been long, the others arrived.
“What’s going on here?” Veronica asked, entering the foyer.
“I am afraid your husband is a murderer,” Cora said.
“Nonsense.” Veronica smiled. “Honey, tell her it’s nonsense.”
“Of course it is,” Edmund said.
“I beg to differ,” Randolph said.
Veronica frowned. “Why is your hair wet, Cora? You didn’t even want to go outside and now you seemed to have gone swimming?”
“Your husband pushed her in the water,” Randolph said.
“You don’t tend to be clumsy, Edmund,” Veronica said.
“It was an intentional push,” Cora said, her voice breaking.
Veronica stopped. “You’re being serious?”
“He killed Gladys and his father, and when he knew I’d found out—he wanted to kill me.”
“But—”
For once in her life, Veronica seemed entirely devoid of words.
“Lady Audrey was his accomplice,” Randolph said.
Mr. Ardingley narrowed his eyes. “Wexley, I can direct this gun at him. I always knew I was the better son.”
“Perhaps you might find some rope to tie him up with, sir,” Wexley suggested.
Mr. Ardingley grinned. “You’re a good man.”
Soon both Lady Audrey and Edmund were tied up.
“How could you have killed your own father?” the dowager duchess asked. “What could possess you?”
Edmund scowled. “Don’t carry on lying, Mother. I know he’s not my real father. I know Signor Palombi is truly my father.”
“My darling boy,” said the dowager duchess. “The duke was your father.”
“Nonsense,” Edmund said. “You can tell me.”
“But it’s true.”
“I know that Signor Palombi was your lover,” Edmund said. “I saw a picture of him in your room.”
The dowager blinked. “You went through my private things?”
“I was suspicious. You were so happy to see him. You’re never happy about anything.”
“But you didn’t read the back of the photograph?”
“It’s not my fault you never taught me Czech,” Edmund grumbled.
“I imagine your father is regretting his decision to not let me do so,” said the dowager. “Mr. Palombi and I are relations. We have recently rekindled our acquaintanceship, but I assure you that there is nothing romantic about it.”
“But you spoke in private.”
“About our country.” The dowager swallowed. “Recent news has made me nostalgic. Our country is sadly fragmenting. Yes, I invited him for Christmas, but only because I couldn’t stand the thought of him spending Christmas alone in a new country in a hotel.”
“But why pretend to be Italian?” Edmund’s eyes remained narrowed.
The dowager and Signor Palombi glanced at each other. Cora wondered how much they might share.
“I left Czechoslovakia years ago, and so did my cousin,” explained the dowager duchess.
Edmund’s face paled, and his mother’s shoulders seemed to relax.
“Archibald enjoyed the open space here,” Signor Palombi said.
Mrs. Ardingley frowned. “He made good use of the hallways.”
Mr. Ardingley raised his eyebrows.
“One notices the floor in great detail when one is compelled to wheel oneself on top of it,” Mrs. Ardingley murmured.
“I’m glad those days are behind you.” Mr. Ardingley kissed the top of his wife’s head.
Mrs. Ardingley’s brother-in-law might just have committed two gruesome murders, but that did not seem to encroach upon the rekindling of Mrs. Ardingley’s relationship with the murderer’s brother.
Perhaps one day things can truly be normal again.
“Wait.” Edmund blinked several times, and his Adam’s apple moved up and down rapidly, as if his throat had been drained of all moisture. “You mean to say,” he said, his voice breaking, though he barreled on, “that I murdered my own father.”
“Yes, my child,” said his mother.
“And he wasn’t going to take away my inheritance?”
“He never mentioned it.”
“It was the right thing to do, darling,” Lady Audrey said. “We were so close to being together forever. And you would have had the money so much sooner.”
“My late husband was not in good health,” the dowager said. “You should have let him live.”
Edmund raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, Lord.”
“Prayers will hardly work.” Mrs. Ardingley sniffed. “I cannot believe you would have behaved so appallingly. After that expensive education too! How tragic that the duke never learned how superior my husband was to you.”
Mr. Ardingley squeezed his wife’s hand. “I’m sure he knew at the end, my dear.”
Edmund’s face seemed to turn a shade of green.
Cora wondered what sort of dubious deals with Germany had been halted because of Edmund’s action. Perhaps Edmund had unwittingly aided various resistance movements against the rapidly rising National Socialists.
“I’m sorry,” Edmund murmured.
“You almost killed me,” Cora said. “You tried very hard to kill me. And you did kill Gladys.”
“The maid?” Edmund shrugged. “She wasn’t important.”
“Because she wasn’t a family member?”
“Because she was a servant,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “These Americans.”
“She didn’t deserve to die,” his mother admonished.
Edmund shrugged. “Her death is inconsequential. No problems will be caused by her absence. If anything, it will give the housekeeper a chance to hire someone more appropriate.”
“She was a sweet girl,” Veronica said, and then sighed. “A true fan.”
“As if you didn’t find her irritating,” Lady Audrey said. “Far too talkative.”
The duchess frowned. “I will not tolerate you spending the rest of your time tarnishing that poor girl’s memory.”
“And yet you had another maid. It’s not tarnishing when it’s the truth,” Edmund said valiantly, and Lady Audrey smiled, her gaze somehow managing to remain adoring.
“I’ve had my lady’s maid for years,” the duchess said regally. “A fact of which you are well aware, and which you should not choose to conveniently forget. That girl left her family to serve in our large, luxurious manor house. It is an experience that I can relate to, for I came here from Czechoslovakia without my family so many years ago. It will always be a sorrow to me that she was treated so poorly here. One might be nervous about going down a dark alleyway in a neighborhood known for its proclivity for crime, but one hardly expects one’s employer to strangle one with a camera strap.”
Edmund’s cheeks flamed. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“It’s too late,” she said softly. “I didn’t teach you the difference between right or wrong well enough.”
“That boy was sent away to school when he was seven,” Mr. Ardingley said sternly. “I will not have you berate yourself.”
“That’s sweet of you,” the dowager said.
“I am not dead yet. You’ll have plenty of time to talk amongst yourselves as if I’m not here, once I’m actually not here.” Edmund set his face into a scowl. “Look. Perhaps I was callous. But I would never have killed Gladys if I didn’t have to.”
“And why did you have to?” his mother asked. “Was Gladys brandishing some frightful weapon, vowing to use you as target practice?”
Edmund blinked. “What? Of course not.”
“She found out about our love,” Lady Audrey said smoothly.
“Caught you in the act?” Mr. Ardingley said. “Did she have a camera? Was she threatening to send the images to the tabloids?”
“Of course not,” Edmund sputtered. “Maids don’t carry cameras. Their hands are occupied with other materials. The—er—cleaning sort.”
There was an awkward pause while the others waited to see if he would elaborate, though evidently Edmund’s Harrow and Oxford education had not extended to the development of a vocabulary for cleaning supplies.
“But she still could have mentioned it to someone,” Edmund said. “And that would have—er—been suspicious.”
Mr. Ardingley laughed. “You never did get around much. The policemen wouldn’t have wasted the energy to raise a single eyebrow. They rather expect us to be Dionysian men, not that they would term it that, whether we wanted to be or not.” He kissed his wife’s hand. “Some of us do not delight in such experiences.”
Cora tilted her head and assessed them. It was hard to see Mr. Ardingley as a devoted husband, but perhaps he was simply bored with the role of playing a non-devoted one.
Mrs. Ardingley still seemed suspicious, but Cora noted that she did smile when Mr. Ardingley kissed her hand.
Perhaps Mrs. Ardingley’s sacrifice had awakened something inside Mr. Ardingley. Cora hoped for both their sakes that it lasted.
Her gaze found Randolph, and she drew back, embarrassed. He’d saved her life, flinging himself into an icy moat from a turret, even though the last encounter they’d had, she’d accused him of murdering two people. He was bound to hold her in suspicion. Certainly, he would hardly be sending her the sort of besotted glances that Mr. Ardingley was sending Mrs. Ardingley.
Cora’s chest hurt, as the now familiar guilt moved through her, sending pain through her body with expertise.
A dark vehicle moved slowly over the snow, sliding over the ice.
“That must be the English police,” Signor Palombi said.
“They are positively creeping,” Lady Audrey said disdainfully and pulled on her constraints.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Mr. Ardingley crossed his arms. “You killed my father.”
Lady Audrey blinked and looked away.
“Perhaps you can donate your Rolls Royce to the police department,” Mrs. Ardingley said sweetly. “You won’t be using it ever again.”
Lady Audrey’s face whitened, but she turned toward Edmund. “Good bye, my darling.”
Her features froze.
Edmund wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at Veronica.
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“Good bye,” he murmured to Veronica.
Golly.
Edmund didn’t even care for Lady Audrey. He’d only second guessed his relationship with Veronica, after the papers and his friends had mocked it.
Finally, the vehicle pulled up, and a man in a uniform exited.
It was the constable.
The same one they’d met at the station.
Constable Kirby.
“What’s going on here?” Kirby asked.
“My husband and one of my maids have been murdered,” the dowager duchess said in her most regal voice.
The constable frowned. “I was hoping it wasn’t true.”
“One does not jest about such things.” The dowager duchess sniffed and flung her fur stole around her shoulders again.
“Don’t you worry, Your Grace,” the constable said. “I’ll find the murderer. I’ve packed my bag.” He snapped it open and pulled out a magnifying glass and a pair of gloves. “We won’t let the murderer run free. Not in this village.”
“We’ve already determined who the murderers are,” the dowager informed him.
“Murderers?” the constable gasped. “Multiple ones?”
“Two. But yes. This young lady solved the case. The murderers were my son and my former neighbor, Lady Audrey.”
“Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the dowager duchess said. “I think you’ll find the courts will agree.”
“Well, then.” The constable took out a pair of handcuffs. “I only brought one pair,” he said mournfully.
“We’ve improvised.” Mr. Ardingley pointed to the rope.
“Right. Good.” The constable took out a book, flipped through the pages and put on a pair of glasses. “My first arrest. I’m honored I can do it before you, Your Grace.”
“Hurry up,” Mr. Ardingley said.
The constable’s face grew ruddy, and after reading the relevant page to Lady Audrey and Edmund, he hauled them to the police car.
Cora watched the dark car move down the hill, and for the first time she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
Chapter Twenty-nine
A SOMBER MOOD OVERTOOK the group after Edmund and Lady Audrey were ushered off by the constable, and the others dispersed. Cora returned to her room. Her legs still felt unsteady, the memory of being thrust into the icy moat still imprinted on them. Cora drew herself a bath and sank into the warm water, trying not to conjure up images of the moat. She didn’t linger in the water and soon dressed.
Calamity Under the Chandelier Page 17