by Sonia Parin
Tom gave her a mock shudder. “I’m having trouble picturing you as anyone’s inferior.”
“I made a few blunders.” She grinned. “But my natural charm won the day.”
“So, what do you make of Charlie being a second son?” Tom asked.
“Second and third sons usually have to make their own way in the world. Although, the second son is thought of as ‘the spare’ and still stands a chance of inheriting. It’s rather a tenuous position to be in.”
“If you want to know what I think, second sons should receive some sort of compensation for all that waiting around for something that might or might not happen.”
“I agree, but then, you and I are American and tend to see things differently. I’m not sure I would be entirely happy if my older brother had inherited everything.”
Evie turned her attention to searching for Batty’s entry. “Lord Hemsworth is a first born son, but we already knew that. His exact title is the Marquess of Hemsworth and he will, one day, become a duke. Now that I think about it, he actually outranks me. That’s a major faux pas. I’m sure I’ve preceded him into every room.”
“It’s not something you’ll have to worry about if he turns out to be a villain.”
She turned the pages, looking for her next person of interest when the sound of a commotion had her rushing to join Tom by the window.
“Did it come from the stable yard?” Evie asked.
“I believe so. Stay here. The detective might need assistance.”
“There is absolutely no way on this earth I would stay in the library by myself. I’m coming with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Take the bait
Reaching the kitchen, Tom surged ahead and, finding the back door standing ajar, he burst out onto the cobbled yard while Evie slowed down.
She had no desire to plunge right into the middle of a melee empty-handed. Taking a gas lamp from its hook, she lit it, but before stepping outside, she rushed through the kitchen and located a rolling pin.
“Practical and armed. Henrietta would be proud of me,” Evie murmured.
Charging across the cobblestoned yard, she held up the lamp and made out three shapes. Her timing could not have been better. The discord had been settled and, coming closer, she could see the detective and Tom flanking another man.
Lord Alexander Saunders.
She reached the group in time to hear the tail end of an explanation.
“…slipped under my door. I found the message when I retired for the night. You must understand, we have an agreement. No one asks questions.”
“Yes, well. I am asking questions now and I expect answers.” The detective sounded both determined and annoyed. “Where is the note?”
Evie expected Lord Saunders to say he had disposed of it but, to her surprise, he drew it out of his pocket.
At last, she thought. This could provide a physical lead to the ringleader. Now they only needed to get everyone’s handwriting sample.
“Do I need to seek legal counsel?” Lord Saunders asked. While his voice carried a hint of concern, he seemed to have some defiance left in him. Sliding his hands inside his pockets, he lifted his chin.
“We’ll discuss this further in the morning,” the detective said and dismissed Lord Saunders.
Evie didn’t hide her surprise. “You didn’t even scold him for taking such a silly risk.”
“I would not have stopped you,” the detective said.
“I’m not sure I can do that. He might outrank me. In fact, I’m sure he does.”
“Would that really stop you, Lady Woodridge?” the detective asked as they made their way back inside the house.
“I suppose not, but don’t tell anyone I said so.”
Back in the library, Evie studied the note. “This could have been written by anyone. You’d have to bring in a handwriting expert. I assume there is such a profession.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the handwriting. The letters flow in perfect copperplate script. It could be mistaken for my own handwriting and that cost me hours of arduous labor to perfect under the strict guidance of a tutor who demanded nothing less than perfect imitation of the samples he provided.” She studied the paper and noticed the coat of arms on the top. The perpetrator had used Sir Richard’s letterhead which could be found in all the rooms.
“I will leave you both to it. I need to get an early start and check with the local constabulary.” The detective turned only to stop. “In case it slips my mind, thank you for suggesting we inspect the parcel found in Lorenzo’s car.”
Evie smiled. “It makes sense to pool our expertise, detective. Mine appears to be developing into a severe case of suspecting everyone.”
When he closed the door behind him, Evie sighed. “I honestly don’t know how the police ever manage to capture so many criminals. For all we know, my butler might have punctured your tire.”
“Edgar? Why would he do that?”
“Because he feels hard done by and is desperate to resume his position at the London house.” She picked up the copy of Burke’s Peerage. “I think I’ll leave this until tomorrow. If I don’t try to get some sleep now, I’m afraid today’s events will keep me awake all night.”
A while later, as she lay in bed, Evie stared into the darkness.
Something felt different.
No maid.
Every night since her arrival at Halton House, Caro had been there to help her undress.
In less than a month, she had lost her chauffeur, her maid and quite possibly, her butler…
***
“Caro?” Evie brushed the sleepiness from her eyes. “It is you.”
“Good morning, milady.”
“What happened to Carolina?”
“I thought I might let her sleep in.” Caro stopped in the middle of the bedroom and smiled. “There really is nothing to this business of pretending to be someone else. I thought I would find it dreadfully confusing.”
“Didn’t you play at pretending when you were little?” Evie asked.
“I grew up surrounded by brothers. They were not exactly interested in dressing up and playing make believe games with me.”
Evie stretched and yawned. “I spent endless hours daydreaming and pretending to be a pirate princess sailing the seven seas.”
“Did anything happen last night?” Caro asked as she selected Evie’s clothes for the morning.
Evie had to think hard about the previous night. When she related the story about rushing out to the courtyard, the news didn’t surprise Caro. “I’m afraid we are none the wiser.”
Caro looked pensive for a moment. “I think if you were to run an illegal operation, you would want to keep your identity secret for fear of reprisals by pretending to be someone you’re not.”
“You have a cunning mind, Caro.”
“Lady Henrietta lends me her penny dreadful novels. I have come to learn a thing or two about evil trickery. It’s the charming ones you have to watch out for.”
Evie flung the bedcovers off and strode to the window. “I wish I could say it helps to know that, but I’m afraid everyone I encounter is usually quite charming.” Evie knew that came with her position in life. No one would think of being anything but polite to the Countess of Woodridge. “I think you should join us today. We could do with another set of keen eyes.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes, of course.”
Caro managed to contain her excitement but Evie could tell she couldn’t wait to step into the shoes of Lady Carolina Thwaites.
Suitably dressed for the day, they strolled out together.
Before they reached the bottom of the stairs, Evie said, “I think we should focus on the ladies. It’s probably a mistake to overlook them.”
Marjorie. Lark Wainscot. Unique.
“It looks like a lovely day outside,” Caro said.
“You sound worried.”
“I didn’t bring a hat.”
Caro looked away and murmured, “They’re too big for me.”
Lifting her chin, Evie couldn’t help remarking, “I can’t tell if you’re making a simple statement of fact or if you’re trying to say I have a big head. If it’s the latter, I’ll have to wonder if you also mean to say I might be getting too big for my shoes.”
Caro laughed. “Oh, heavens… no. I think I would have said something about your feet being too big.”
Before she could stop herself, Evie looked down at her feet. “They are not big. My feet are in proportion to my body.”
“If you say so, milady.”
Half way to the breakfast room, they encountered the detective.
He inclined his head. “Lady Woodridge.” Looking at Caro, the edge of his eyes crinkled, “Lady Thwaites.”
“Good morning, detective.” Feeling optimistic, Evie asked, “Do you have news for us this morning?”
“Yes, I thought we might meet in the library after breakfast.”
Evie took the suggestion in her stride, thinking he would either share everything he knew or distribute information on a need to know basis. “I get the feeling we should have a fortifying breakfast to see us through a busy morning.”
They found Tom lingering over a cup of coffee. A few of the car rally group sat at the table. Batty, Marjorie and Lark Wainscot with Edward Spencer joining them as Evie and Caro sat down.
“Unique told me Edward Spencer is an earl’s youngest son,” Caro murmured. “With three brothers ahead of him. So, no chance of inheriting anything substantial.”
Evie noticed Edward smiling at Caro. Arranging some eggs and bacon onto her fork, Evie lowered her voice to barely a whisper and said, “Did you get around to letting others know you are an heiress?”
“Oh, yes. I had tremendous fun with that. It felt like trying on a new dress or taking a vacation.”
“I think word might have reached young Edward Spencer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he follows you around.”
“Oh, you might have to give me a proper country estate or a town house so he can visit.”
They were enjoying a second cup of coffee when Sir Richard took his place at the breakfast table. After a brief chat with everyone, he turned his attention to the daily news.
At one point, Evie thought she heard him murmur his displeasure over the abundance of bad news and the scarcity of good news.
Wondering how they should tackle what little time they had left, Evie thought they should divide and conquer.
Caro had been able to gather some information by having private conversations. Unless the detective could come up with a reason to keep everyone at Warwick Hall, the car rally group would be leaving soon.
Yes, she thought, divide and conquer…
Evie watched the detective to see if he gave anything away. He had said he would contact the constable to establish a few essential facts. His attention, however, remained on his breakfast. The fact he hadn’t once looked at Sir Richard could mean anything.
Evie wanted to think he hadn’t discovered anything to connect their host to Lorenzo’s death. Grief could push a person to their limits and beyond reason. She hoped that hadn’t been the case with him.
Glancing around the table, she noticed Lark Wainscot looking at her. They exchanged a smile and before any awkwardness could settle between them, Evie remarked on her rather large brooch.
“It’s a unique style. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it.”
“A friend made it. It’s a three-dimensional homage to the Spanish artist, Pablo Picasso. She assembles all the different shapes made from various materials and overlaps them.”
The piece sat on her lapel and Evie could see it pulling slightly on the fabric.
Evie didn’t think she would be able to wear such a colorful piece. It contrasted beautifully against Lark’s porcelain skin and angular features.
Studying the eye-catching design, Evie remembered Tom saying Lark Wainscot aspired to be a stage actress. She certainly appeared to have the larger than life personality for it.
For such a large piece, the pin would have to be quite sturdy…
Strong enough to pierce through a tire?
The detective cleared his throat and, making eye contact with Tom, Evie and Caro, he excused himself.
They hadn’t discussed tactics, but Evie thought it would be best to linger for a while before following him.
“I should like to wear something like it but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”
“Try it on,” Lark suggested.
Evie took the opportunity to look at the back of the brooch. “This looks like a strong pin.”
Lark nodded. “It’s platinum.”
Evie had heard of the metal. “The Hope Diamond is set in platinum.” Seeing Caro’s raised eyebrow, Evie added, “Evalyn Walsh McLean owns it. She’s an American mining heiress and socialite. Anyhow, jewelers love working with platinum because of its strength.”
Evie placed the brooch against her lapel. That pin definitely looked strong enough to break through the thickness of a tire and Tom had said the incision would have been small enough for it to take a long time for the tire to lose all the air.
Caro leaned in and whispered, “Don’t you dare pin it on. The fabric on your coat is delicate. It won’t stand the weight and it will leave a mark.”
Looking up, Evie smiled. “Cousin Carolina is ever so fussy about things.” She returned the piece just as Tom made his excuses and left the table.
The butler approached her. “Lady Woodridge. There is a telephone call for you.”
Evie’s heart hammered against her chest. Surprised by her reaction, she pressed her hand to her throat.
The dowagers.
They were the only ones who knew she had taken refuge at Sir Richard’s house. Had something happened to them?
She hurried out and, before picking up the receiver, she scooped in a big breath.
Caro, who had followed her, said, “It will be good news. My mother always says we should expect good news.”
Giving a stiff nod, Evie placed the receiver against her ear and took the call.
Identifying herself, she listened and nodded several times. Finally, she said, “Yes, I will be there. Thank you for calling.”
She disconnected the call and turned to Caro. “The doctor has given the go-ahead for Isabel to leave the hospital.”
Sir Richard happened to be walking by and asked, “Is everything all right, Lady Woodridge? Forgive me for saying so, but you look like a damsel in distress.”
Evie tried to swallow. Her heart continued to hammer against her chest. She had never worried about the dowagers so she had to assume the last couple of days had taken their toll.
“It’s Isabel Fitzpatrick. I mean… Bianchi…” Evie berated herself for not feeling overjoyed by the news of her recovery. “She is ready to leave the hospital.” And, going by the relief she had heard in the doctor’s voice, he could not have been happier to see Isabel go.
“Caro, could you please alert Edmonds. I’ll be needing the car in a moment.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It is better to risk saving a guilty person than to condemn an innocent one – Voltaire
The library, Warwick Hall
Thinking the detective had kept them in suspense long enough, Evie walked into the library and demanded, “Is Sir Richard innocent?”
The detective smiled. “That is the wrong question to ask.”
“Do I get three guesses? Be careful how you respond, detective. If you say yes, you’ll have to listen to me prattling on…”
The detective pressed his lips together and then pushed out the words. “Lorenzo did not drive the car which spooked Lady Warwick’s horse. He’d been out of the country at the time.”
Caro nudged her. “I would have loved to hear you prattling on.”
“In fact,” the detective continued, “the po
lice were never able to identify the driver, which makes them even guiltier for leaving the scene of the accident without notifying anyone. A local farmer witnessed it from a distance and could only describe the vehicle as small and possibly black or burgundy.”
The information should have satisfied Evie. However, her rather farfetched idea of Sir Richard haunting the road and seeking vengeance gained momentum.
Evie got up and paced around the library.
Everyone in the county would know Sir Richard. He would have the confidence of every tenant in the area. What if he had come by information the police hadn’t been able to access? The authorities would have investigated the matter but they might have missed someone. Evie imagined an estate worker or a local tenant farmer providing Sir Richard with knowledge of a particular motor car being spotted in the area.
She shook her head and decided she needed to let it go. Sir Richard would have passed the information on to the police. She wanted to believe it. She had to.
“There’s also the other matter.” The detective cleared his throat. “It seems your suspicions were right, Lady Woodridge. Lorenzo’s packages do not have an address and it is not wrapped in anything other than paper.”
Meaning, he had been in business for himself and… “His competitor killed him.”
“That is an idea we are prepared to work with. As you know, Lorenzo Bianchi had been under surveillance. However, we were never able to connect him to anyone of interest.”
Evie didn’t comment. She had nothing to say. In fact, she would have struggled to voice an opinion.
Nibbling the tip of her thumb, she wondered how long it would take for Isabel’s parents to arrive.
Swinging around, she stared at Tom and the detective just as a footman entered the library and made a beeline for Evie.