“My God, are you all right?” Her eyes searched my face, perhaps looking for signs of a breakdown.
I gave her a helpless gesture. “Still a little shaky at the moment, but what about you? What happened with the viscount?”
She guided me over to the divan, then curled up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t want to go for a drive alone with him,” she said. “I knew you didn’t want me to see him, and it bothered me that he pursued me here. He and Delia had one or two private conversations in the study that I didn’t care for either.” She wrinkled her nose. “Oddly enough, there’s a hole in the floor of my room, and I could hear them quite clearly.”
“Really?”
She nodded her head against my shoulder. “Delia encouraged his suit.” She sat up and turned to face me. “With him pleading, and her insisting, I didn’t see any way out of it, so off we went for the bloody drive.”
I grimaced at her language, but was just too weary to correct her.
“We drove five or six miles out into the countryside,” she continued, “and ate a picnic luncheon he’d brought with him. Then he made some advances I didn’t appreciate. I insisted he take me back home, but then the motorcar wouldn’t start.” Her eyes goggled as she shook her head. “I let him work on it for far too long before I realized he might be doing this deliberately. The sun was setting by then, and I knew if we had to stay out there all night, my reputation would be ruined.”
I pushed some loose curls behind her ear. Poor dear. “Did you accuse him of planning this?”
“I did. Then he became angry, which made me angry, and the next thing I knew, I’d hit him over the head with the champagne bottle.” She paused and looked up at me, biting her lip. “We’d both had quite a bit of champagne.”
“I see. I’m thankful it didn’t slow your reflexes.”
“No, I suppose it didn’t.” Her voice held a note of pride. “Well, he slumped against the motorcar, and I started walking home. Perhaps an hour later, the two inspectors drove up in a carriage, saying they were looking for me. They took me up, and we returned to find the viscount.”
“Was he still where you left him?”
“He was not.” Her eyes grew wide in outrage. “Which proves the motor car would start, and he’d been trying to trick me. Can you believe that?”
“Hmm, I’m afraid I can believe that and more. How did you find him?”
“Well as there were no turn-offs from the road, we just followed it for several miles, until we found him pulled off by the side. This time the motorcar truly had broken down. You should have seen his face when he saw me with the inspectors. He thought someone had come to assist him.”
“You do know he wasn’t really Viscount Ainsworthy, don’t you?”
She nodded, eyes wide with amazement. “Yes, Inspector Collins told me what they knew of him. You don’t suppose he murdered the real viscount, do you?”
I shook my head. “The police will eventually find out what happened to the real viscount, but I don’t believe Thomas murdered him.”
“But he did kill that footman, didn’t he?”
I told her the story, and how her sketches had helped to identify the fake viscount as Capshaw’s killer, until Crabbe came to the door, and announced the coroner and another constable. Hetty came back from my room with the inspector, and the three men went outside to view Delia’s body.
Hetty seated herself in a chair next to me and placed a hand on my knee. “How are you holding up, dear?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “I’m still trying to take in the fact that Delia murdered Reggie. And she would have murdered me.”
“I know you considered her a friend, dear, but I’ve been wondering for the past hour if she wasn’t the author of the anonymous letter the police received.”
“She admitted she sent it.” Hetty’s lips compressed in anger as I gave her that part of the story.
None of us slept much that night, what with police coming and going, first to examine and remove Delia’s body, then to take statements from all of us, regarding both Thomas and Delia. It was very early in the morning when the last constable left us. Hetty snored softly in her chair, and Lily was curled up next to me on the sofa. I woke them both and urged them upstairs for a few hours’ sleep. I bunked in with Lily as I could not face going back to my room.
* * *
The next week was like the uneasy wakefulness after a nightmare. It took a few days before I stopped jumping at sudden movements and noises. Graham had come home, and after a long consultation with him and the chief inspector, we decided to call Delia’s death an accident. No mention would go into the report about her attempt on my life, and I never said a word about her confession of killing Reggie. She was gone now. There was no way to punish her further, and in this way the horrible truth would never reach the children, or Delia’s parents.
After showing the inspector out, Graham invited me back to the library for a drink. We both needed it. We were building a link between us—more than a truce, not yet a friendship. Perhaps just a mutual understanding of what the other must be suffering.
Graham strode to the tantalus and poured a healthy tot of spirits into two glasses. “I’m selling Harleigh,” he said.
I was stunned by his announcement. “I wasn’t aware you could sell the estate. Isn’t it entailed?”
“Not all of it.” He turned and handed me a glass. “Do you recall where the ruins are?”
I nodded. “Reggie and I took a picnic luncheon there once, long ago.”
He gave me a wry smile. “That was the original house, which stood on the original holding that was conferred with the title. The rest of the property the family purchased over the centuries. So yes, I can sell most of the estate.”
“Including the house?”
“Especially the house. The last thing I’d want to do is hand the curse of feeding this white elephant over to my son.”
“I see.” While I couldn’t fault his decision, my mind reeled at the thought of the money I’d put into this house. He was right though. It would always demand more. It had become a curse. Still, I worried he was acting on emotion rather than reason.
“I understand why you’d wish to rid yourself of this burden, and why you can have no desire to live here, but this might not be the best time to make such an important decision.”
Graham finished off his drink in one swallow and returned the glass to the tray. “I made this decision almost a year ago. Delia and I argued about it nearly every day since. She didn’t want to give this place up. It meant everything to her.”
He turned back to face me, his expression grim. “Two weeks ago I engaged an estate agent. I fear that may be what pushed her over the edge.”
I saw the pain in his eyes and searched my mind for some words to relieve it. Delia had jumped over that edge long before she attacked me, but Graham had no idea she’d caused his brother’s death. Perhaps I had an obligation to tell him one day. But not today. He was in enough pain.
I placed a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t hold you responsible for Delia’s actions, Graham. Don’t take that weight on yourself.”
He blinked several times before turning away.
* * *
We females returned to London the day after the funeral, with a promise from Graham to follow us a few days later, bringing the boys. It felt good to be home, sleeping in my own bed, with the knowledge there would be no break-ins in the future.
That thought made me wonder what had happened with Thomas Martin. Though Delaney had come to Guildford to take his prisoner back to London, I never saw him and I’d heard nothing from George while we were at Harleigh. My curiosity was relieved the next morning when George paid a call, with Delaney in tow. It was nearly noon, but fatigued from the previous week’s events, we still lingered over the breakfast table. It took an invitation from each of us to convince the inspector to join us.
>
George, who needed no urging, dropped himself into the chair next to mine, and took my hand. “Forgive me for not waiting for a more suitable hour, but I needed to find out how you were faring.”
“Well enough,” I said. There’d be time later to relay all that had happened at Harleigh. After his investigations on my behalf, he deserved to know Delia had murdered Reggie, at the very least. As for the rest, if I didn’t tell him I was sure Hetty or Lily would. I wondered if he’d react with another proposal.
Hiding my smile, I turned to Delaney. “Have you news of Thomas Martin?”
“He’s made a full confession,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee. “It ties with the reports we received from South Africa. Seems the real Ainsworthy had died of typhoid fever, several weeks before notice of his inheritance arrived. Thomas was living in the viscount’s lodgings, and selling off his belongings to raise the fare back to England, when he received the notice. I understand both men were similar in build and coloring, and there was Thomas left in a foreign country without a job or funds. Ainsworthy’s creditors had seized the mining company. The viscount was dead as were his closest relations. I suppose the temptation to impersonate him was just too strong.”
I considered Thomas’s situation. “He must have felt he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.”
“Imagine his disappointment when he arrived at the viscount’s solicitor’s office to find the coffers nearly empty, and the estate entailed.” George’s voice was tinged with a grim irony.
“That must be when he decided he needed a wealthy heiress,” Lily noted with a scowl. “And to keep up appearances, he started stealing small items and selling them.”
“As for the thefts, did you happen to learn why he left the bracelet in my bag?”
Delaney nodded. “He overheard Mrs. Stoke-Whitney instructing two servants to search for it and decided it was best to be rid of the thing. As he planned to call on Miss Price, there would be a chance of retrieving it.”
“If he had no money, how did he manage to purchase the automobile?” Hetty asked.
“Who would not accept a bank draft from a viscount?” Delaney shook his head. “Everyone took him at face value. Everyone believed the lie.” His gaze landed on me.
“Except you, my lady.”
I frowned across the table at him. “What do you mean?”
“You were having him investigated before any of this trouble started. Your instincts were correct.”
I only wished my instincts had been as good when it came to my in-laws. I pushed the thought aside and smiled at my guests. “Goodness, Inspector. A compliment from you is a rare thing indeed. But I must confess it’s something any good sponsor would do for her charge.”
“Only the best sponsors would do it,” Lily argued. “Which is why you should consider my suggestion to bring out other young ladies. Even though you didn’t find me a match.”
“Oh, so you’ve turned your back on Mr. Kendrick, have you? You know he’s quite the hero in my eyes.”
The russet color in her cheeks gave me my answer.
“Well, perhaps when you write home, you might mention the possibility to some of your friends in New York. One or two of them may wish to visit next Season.”
“It is only April.” A sly smile curved her lips. “There’s still a great deal left of this Season.”
“I suppose that’s true, and now that I think about it, Madeline was very taken with Ainsworthy too, more so than you, I’d say. Her mother might be persuaded to mention my services to the right people—very discreetly, of course.” I thought of the bank draft my mother sent me for sponsoring Lily. Could I actually make my own way in the world? Better still, could I steer these young ladies away from disastrous marriages? The very idea made me smile.
“I just might be able to make a go of this,” I said, marveling at the possibility.
I turned toward George when he squeezed my hand. “One can’t help but admire an independent woman.”
My cheeks grew warm with a blush. I wasn’t ready for marriage again, nor was I completely independent. I fell somewhere between the two, with a fair mix of responsibility and freedom. I was in a place where anything could happen. And when such a man lived right next door, who knew what would happen next?
A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder Page 25