by Paula Paul
“But how did you all get here…” Alexandra felt disoriented and had to fight a feeling of anxiety.
“You can thank Nancy for that,” Nicholas said. “When you failed to appear as a witness, it was she who told us where she thought you’d gone and why. We all got to Montmarsh as quickly as we could. Nancy insisted on stopping here first to pick up Zack. Rather fortunate that she did, I should say.”
“And George, you must tell me whether he—”
“George is dead.” Nicholas’s voice was quiet. She had suspected it all along, of course, but she needed confirmation, and she was grateful that Nicholas knew how wrong it would be to keep it from her. “Atewater didn’t fail the second time,” he said. “But young George put up a good fight. He wounded Atewater.”
“Atewater was the one who was using those boys. Getting them to steal for him.” Alexandra looked at Nicholas again for confirmation to what she had just said, but it was Isabel who responded.
“The bastard. He never told me how desperate he was. He had to turn to stealing because the bank was failing. Now we’re both disgraced.”
Lord Winningham patted her arm and murmured, “Now, now.”
“And George was a part of his ring of thieves,” Alexandra said.
Nicholas shook his head. “Not exactly. George had taken part in some of the petty thievery with Quince and the boys, but he was never in on the big heists. Atewater didn’t think he was smart enough.”
“But why would Atewater kill Lord Dunsford and George? Was the earl involved somehow with the robberies?”
“No, Eddie wasn’t a part of that nasty business,” Nicholas said. “You could say it was Eddie’s nasty personality and George’s ego that got them killed, each in his turn. You see, when George got left out of the big jobs, he thought he could get even with Atewater by telling Lord Dunsford what was going on. He thought the earl would go to the police. But Eddie, true to form, didn’t bother with the police. Instead he set out to blackmail Atewater.”
“Oh, and of course Jeremy wouldn’t stand for that,” Isabel said.
“You’re quite right,” Nicholas said. “He went after George first out of revenge and thought he had killed him. Eddie thought so as well, and it frightened him. You may have noticed how nervous he was at his dinner party when he’d only just heard of George’s supposed death. He knew Atewater would be after him, as well.”
“Then why was he so foolish as to leave his door unlocked to allow Atewater to get into his room that night?” Alexandra asked.
There was a moment of embarrassed silence. Nicholas cleared his throat. “Eddie did lock his room, of course.” Another awkward silence.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Isabel said. “You may as well know the truth. Everyone else does. Jeremy used my key to get into Eddie’s room. Yes, I had a key.”
“I say, quite enough of this,” Lord Winningham said, patting Isabel’s arm.
“Did Atewater tell you all of this?” Alexandra asked.
“He did,” Constable Snow said. “I find it interesting how men will confess everything when they’re in a tight spot. Survival instinct, I suppose.” He studied Alexandra’s face for a moment, a finger placed to his pursed lips. “I suspect you had already figured out much of this. But I can’t quite see why you put yourself in contempt of court by fleeing to Montmarsh to confront Mr. Atewater when you were supposed to be in the witness box.”
“I’m afraid I shall disappoint you, Constable, when I confess that I didn’t know all of the details. I only knew that Jeremy Atewater was the killer, and that I wanted to keep him from harming George.”
“I’m not at all disappointed, Dr. Gladstone. Merely curious as to how you knew about Mr. Atewater.”
“We all are,” Isabel said. “Even I didn’t know it was Jeremy. How did you possibly know?”
Alexandra put her teacup aside. “It was Lord Dunsford’s red silk nightshirt.”
“What?” Isabel said, as everyone else murmured their surprise.
“It was while I was listening to Nicholas describe the murder scene to the prosecutor that I began to visualize the scene and the earl in his red silk nightshirt. Then I remembered that Atewater had mentioned the nightshirt once, commenting on how foolish the earl was to wear it. But no one had been in that room to see what he was wearing except Nicholas and me and the constable. Even when the earl’s body was removed from the house, he was covered with a sheet.”
Alexandra glanced at Isabel. “I think you may have seen the earl in his nightshirt, Mrs. Atewater, because I know you were lurking outside his room, but I suspect it was only out of curiosity. And, in spite of the fact that you are a relatively strong, athletic woman, I did finally come to believe that you were not, in fact, strong enough to overcome a man the size of Lord Dunsford.”
Alexandra, growing even more hoarse, leaned back into her pillows, which made Nancy exclaim, “You’re tired now, Miss. I’m afraid ’tis time your guests leave.”
“You’re certainly right, I’m sure,” Snow said. “It will be a day or two before I need that statement.” He gave Alexandra a courtly bow and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Her voice was weak as well as hoarse. “What about Elsie?”
Snow turned back to her. “Charges have been dismissed, and she has returned to the care of Mrs. Pickwick at Montmarsh, who, I might add, has decided to stay on until the new heir arrives. When you’ve had time to recover, Elsie will want to express her gratitude.”
Alexandra nodded.
Snow cleared his throat and shuffled about in an uncharacteristically embarrassed manner. “I’m afraid there is one other thing, Dr. Gladstone.”
“Yes?”
“You have been held in contempt of court for not being present to perform your duty as witness before the Queen’s Bench.”
“But if the charges against Elsie have been dropped—”
“That is of no consequence, I’m afraid,” Snow said. “I’m sorry, Dr. Gladstone.” She watched as Snow once again turned away to exit the room.
Lord Winningham, in turn, took Isabel’s arm. “May I offer you a ride, Madam? I’m certain this has all been far too stressful for a person of such delicate constitution. My carriage is waiting outside.”
There was a flicker of surprise in Isabel’s eyes, replaced quickly by a coy expression. “How kind of you, Lord Winningham.” She slipped her arm through his. “It is seldom that a lady meets a man who is so sensitive and understanding.”
“Nancy, will you see everyone to the door, please,” Alexandra said.
Nancy hesitated, then nodded and reluctantly left the room with Nicholas following behind.
“Nicholas.” When Alexandra called to him, he turned around to face her. “I must know about the two boys who came here seeking my help. Artie and Rob. I think they may have been part of the jewel thief ring, but I didn’t want to mention it in the presence of Constable Snow.”
“Artie and Rob?” Nicholas frowned, considering the names. “I believe those are the names of your new stable boys.”
“My what?”
“I’m afraid Nancy took it upon herself to fire your old one and hire new ones.”
“Nancy’s a bit cheeky, I’m afraid.”
“Mmmm,” Nicholas said.
Alexandra frowned, troubled. “But when the investigation is complete, the boys may be implicated. I’m not certain, of course. I’m only saying they may be.”
“Then they shall be in need of a good barrister.”
A slight smile touched her lips. “Of course.”
Nicholas nodded again. “Good bye, Alexandra. Nancy is right, you need your rest.”
“Nicholas,” Alexandra repeated and once again he turned around to face her. “I must thank you for your interest in this case and for your most capable help. I admire your intelligence.”
“And I admire your intelligence as well, Dr. Gladstone.” And then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “Perhaps we shall be working together ag
ain.”
“A lovely thought, but I can’t imagine under what circumstances.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Remember, Dr. Gladstone. Your new stable boys aren’t the only miscreants here. You’re facing a contempt of court charge. You’ll be in need of a barrister as well.” A slightly wicked smile crossed his lips before he turned to leave.
Paula Paul is a former journalist who now spends her time writing novels. She is the winner of a Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal, Texas Institute of Letters Award, a Women Writing the West Award, a New Mexico Book Award, the Zia Award, and a National Press Women’s Award for Fiction. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with her husband and a dog named Smokey.