by Blythe Baker
“I was being a hypocrite, and I’m sorry. This wedding has everyone a little mad.”
Alice groaned. “I will die of happiness when this wedding is finally over. I am so tired of discussing it.”
Realizing what she had said, she smirked, holding in her laughter. “I suppose another death is the last thing this family needs.”
“Especially Nicholas,” I said, broaching the reason I’d come up to see her in the first place. “He is very upset about his grandmother.”
Alice’s face twisted into pity. “He is devastated. I feel so bad for him.”
“How long had he been taking care of Aunt Augusta?”
“When we went on that walk the first day we arrived—” She cut herself off and widened her eyes, grinning from ear to ear. “I was far too nervous to talk, so he carried the conversation, but he was so friendly, Rose. And sweet. But anyway, he told me he had been living with his grandmother exclusively for the last year. Her health has been declining steadily since then. He knew she didn’t have much time left, but I’m sure he didn’t foresee her passing away this weekend.”
“Did he say what he was doing before he moved in with her?” I asked.
Alice shook her head. “He didn’t say. Though, he did say that living with her was a large change from his usual lifestyle. Aunt Augusta didn’t like to leave the house. It took him weeks to convince her to come to Catherine’s wedding, which is, I’m sure, why he is feeling so guilty about everything. He is the reason she came here in the first place.”
It seemed strange that Nicholas would care so much about a distant cousin’s wedding. From the way it seemed, he had never been particularly close with the Beckinghams, so I had to wonder why he would spend weeks persuading his grandmother to come. Perhaps, after months of being alone with the old woman, he was desperate for any kind of human interaction.
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to be trapped inside with her for so long,” Alice said, speaking my thoughts. “But according to him, she was very grateful for his assistance. She made him the sole heir to her fortune.”
Alice turned to me, brow quizzical. “Didn’t you need my help with something?”
“Oh, yes. This was it,” I said. “I just had a few questions about Nicholas and Aunt Augusta.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know so much about him?”
“His grandmother just died,” I said with an innocent shrug. “If the police are saying she was murdered, I thought it would be good to know as much about him as I can. I couldn’t ask your mother, so you were the next best option.”
“Why couldn’t you ask my mother?” Suddenly, I felt like I was the one being interrogated. Alice leaned forward on the bed, all of her focus on me.
Because I did not want her to realize how little I knew about the family. “She was busy.”
I could tell Alice was still suspicious. Mostly because I knew she would never want to believe Nicholas could be capable of any crime, let alone murder. Her shoulders relaxed, and she waved a hand towards the door. “She is probably free now. She will have more answers for you than I do, I’m sure.”
Deciding I’d pushed Alice far enough for one day, I thanked her and left to find Lady Ashton.
Nicholas had retired to his room for the evening, too exhausted from crying to eat or attempt to talk to any of the other guests, so Lady Ashton was finally free of him and alone in the kitchen when I found her. She was picking at a tray of leftover desserts from the garden party.
“It seems impossible that the party could have been only this afternoon,” I said, knocking on the door to announce myself.
She looked up, her eyes wrinkled at the corners and weary. Still, she managed a small smile. “Doesn’t it? It seems several days have been fit into this one. I am very ready for it to end.”
I walked into the kitchen and leaned back against the countertop. The usual kitchen staff were not around, and I wondered whether everyone wasn’t experiencing fatigue after the long day.
“Are you here for an evening snack like me?” Lady Ashton asked, gesturing to a plate of biscuits.
“Not exactly, though I am not one to turn down dessert,” I said, grabbing a shortbread biscuit.
“A trait that runs in the family, I think.” She took the last bite of a small cake and then wiped her hands together to get rid of the crumbs. “So, what can I do for you?”
“You have done enough this week that I hate to ask for anything else from you, but I wondered whether I couldn’t ask you a few questions. About Nicholas.”
“We are family,” Lady Ashton emphasized, driving home the stake of guilt that was already burrowing into my stomach. “I am always here to help. You have done so much for our family, Rose.”
I shook my head, but Lady Ashton crossed the small space between us, laying her hand on top of mine.
“Truly, Rose, you have taken care of my girls while their father and I dealt with the loss of Edward. You have been a bright spot in all of our lives, and I am so grateful that we’ve had this time together. I see you as one of my own children, rather than a niece.”
My throat felt thick with unshed tears, and I swallowed back the emotion. “Thank you. I see all of you as family, as well. Dear, dear family.”
Lady Ashton smiled and winked at me. Then, she leaned back against the counter and gestured for me to carry on.
“I only wonder how Nicholas Whitlock spent his time while I was away in India?” I asked. “Alice said Nicholas told her he’d been taking care of his grandmother for the last year, but what was he doing before that?”
Lady Ashton’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I’m afraid it isn’t a very nice story. Not one Aunt Augusta would want to hear me repeating.”
Intrigue caused me to lean forward and lower my voice. “Does he have a criminal past?”
“Oh, no,” Lady Ashton corrected quickly. “Not unless you count breaking hearts as a crime. The only thing our Nicholas Whitlock was guilty of was being a hopeless philanderer.”
“Oh.” It felt strange to be disappointed that the man wasn’t a criminal. It would have made it much easier to solve the case if he had been.
“His mother, my cousin, died when he was barely eighteen. He inherited a deal of money from her, but not enough to sustain his lifestyle.”
“And what lifestyle was that?” I asked.
“Drinking and women,” she whispered. “He has also never minded a little luxury. He sold his mother’s house for the money and spent it on fine hotel rooms and restaurants. When that ran out, he borrowed money. He even contacted me once about a small loan.”
“Did he really?” I tried to imagine the Nicholas Whitlock I’d seen over the last few days—confident, charming, and, more recently, sobbing—begging anyone for money. I couldn’t quite picture it.
“He did, though we do not hold it against him. He was young, and, as you know, every family has their own shameful past.”
Lady Ashton truly had no idea exactly how well I knew that truth. I was now privy to the shames of several families—my own and Rose’s. High or low born, everyone had a secret.
“So, once the money ran out and he’d cashed in on what little good will he had with his remaining family, it ended up that only Aunt Augusta was willing to take him in.”
“I never viewed her as a particularly generous woman,” I admitted.
Lady Ashton laughed. “And you’d be right not to. I tend to believe she found a kindred spirit in Nicholas. Not in the sense that she, too, owed many people money, but in that neither of them had anywhere to turn. Aunt Augusta had a bad habit of making enemies. She was estranged from her own daughter.”
“Nicholas’ mother?”
She nodded. “When his mother died, Aunt Augusta had not seen her in years. To my understanding, Nicholas barely knew his grandmother. It was desperation that brought him to her doorstep.”
“And he left behind his old lifestyle in favor of caring
for an elderly woman? Forgive me, but I can’t believe that was an easy transition for him to make. Not if he was truly as wild as you have made him seem.”
“I may have even downplayed his lifestyle,” Lady Ashton admitting with a scandalous smile. Then, she sobered. “His temperament did change drastically, though. In my opinion, Nicholas was searching for a purpose in life, and Aunt Augusta gave him that.”
I grabbed another shortbread biscuit from the tray and took a small bite. They were stale, but still delicious.
“Who was caring for her before he came along?” I asked.
Lady Ashton frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t recall there being anyone. As Nicholas said the other day, Aunt Augusta kept very few servants. She did not trust anyone to be in her home or know too much about her life. Once Nicholas began caring for her, she became even more secretive and reclusive. We rarely saw her over this last year. It is why it was so alarming to see her in such a state of decline when they arrived.”
“She was not always so ill?”
“No. In fact, she was remarkably hardy. Of course, when I remember her clearest was many years ago. A lot can change in that time. She was an old woman.”
“True, but if the police are correct, her age had little to do with her death. Perhaps, her suspicions were not so misplaced. She had a very large fortune with no immediate heirs. Do you think it possible Nicholas could have seen an opportunity?”
Lady Ashton shook her head. “It is those very suspicions that I believe would have saved her from such a fate. She had a will, but I am certain that, as with every will she had written before, she kept it hidden away from everyone.”
“She had multiple wills?”
“As I said, she had a bad habit of making enemies. She wrote her own daughter out of her will once they no longer had a relationship, and I’m sure she added Nicholas when he reentered her life,” she said. “Aunt Augusta was a nervous, angry woman, and she did not trust anyone. She kept her will hidden so that if her worst nightmare came true and she was killed for her money, no one would inherit. Including Nicholas.”
From the little I knew of Aunt Augusta, this way of handling her will seemed likely. Though, if that was the case, Nicholas would be foolish to kill her. Unless, of course, he knew where the will was.
“But Aunt Augusta had worried about people being after her for years. Just as Lady Harwood is afraid of illness, Aunt Augusta was afraid of greedy relatives, and I believe both of them wasted a lot of energy with useless worry.”
“So, you do not believe the conclusion reached by the police?” I asked. “That she was murdered?”
Lady Ashton’s mouth twisted in thought, and she looked so much like Alice it was uncanny. Then, she shook her head. “I can’t say one way or the other for certain, but my instincts lead me to believe there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Simply put, the chances of more than one murder occurring in our house seem very low.”
I could see the memory of Edward’s crime on Lady Ashton’s face, and I reached out and laid my hand on hers, offering what little comfort I could.
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head back and forth. “Though, if she truly was murdered, I will believe us to be the unluckiest family in the world.”
12
Lady Ashton left shortly after our conversation to find her husband, making a subtle comment about him hiding away to avoid the drama. She said it with a smile, but I’d noticed her attempts to engage Lord Ashton over the few days we’d been at Ridgewick Hall, and I knew there was a hint of truth to her words. After she left, I ate yet another stale biscuit and then mounted the stairs to the second floor.
It was not late by any means, but everyone had retired to their own rooms earlier than normal. Partially to escape Nicholas’ crying, but also because the day had been exhausting. The officers assigned to watch the house and keep the occupants on the property were visible from almost every window, and it was difficult to find anything suitable to talk about that didn’t involve the death, possible murder, or the fact that everyone was trapped on the property until the case was solved. So, sleeping seemed easier.
The hallway was dim, only a few lamps along the length of the corridor turned on. I could hear soft chatter behind some of the doors I passed. Alice seemed to have forgiven me for my outburst at the garden party, but I knew she would still push hard for her own room. As I told Alice, Aunt Augusta’s room should remain undisturbed until the police had a chance to search it, but I decided to look in on the room quickly just to be sure. If her things had already been removed, then there was no reason for me not to sleep there for the night. Aside from the obvious discomfort associated with sleeping in the bed of a recently deceased woman.
Aunt Augusta’s room had been at the far end of a narrow corridor. Aside from the guest room, the hallway housed a bathroom, library, and private office where Lord Ashton spent many of his daytime hours. At night, Aunt Augusta was alone in the hallway due to Lady Ashton strategically placing her as far away from the other guests as possible.
Since no one else was staying down that way, it was dark when I turned the corner. A little light filtered in from the main hallway, but it dissipated quickly, and by the time I reached the midway point, I had to stop and blink to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
I found the door and had to run my hand across the wood to locate the handle. When I did, the door pushed inward without resistance. It had already been opened. This didn’t alarm me at all, as no one was staying in the room any longer, so I pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped inside.
The room had a similar layout to my own, though slightly smaller. The bed was pushed against the wall to the left with a dresser and armoire on the opposite wall. A small writing desk was stationed in front of the windows. I saw all of this clearly because the curtains had been pulled back to let in the light of the full moon. Compared to the dark hallway, the room was almost bright, making it easy to see the dark figure silhouetted against the windows, head lowered to read something in their hands.
“Nicholas?” I recognized the build of Augusta’s grandson immediately, and my heart lurched in my chest.
He spun around, startled by my presence, but rather than looking guilty or suspicious as I expected, he chuckled to himself, a hand placed on his chest. “You scared me, Rose. I didn’t hear you approaching. I suppose my attention was consumed by this letter.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, wondering if I wasn’t apologizing to a murderer. “What are you doing in here?”
He sighed and dropped the paper on top of a stack of papers. Then, he turned and rested on the edge of the desk, arms folded across his chest. He was already in his pajamas, though he didn’t seem to mind me seeing him in them. “I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I should start the process of clearing out her things. For a week in the country, my grandmother travelled with a great deal of personal belongings. I’m already dreading the process of clearing out her house.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized again, unsure what to say.
“It will be difficult,” he said, his voice breaking slightly around the words. “I count myself lucky to be one of the few people in this world she was close to, but it does mean I will carry most of the burden to sort through her things on my own.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I will be in London, but should you need anything, I would be more than willing to help in any way I can.” This was close to the last thing I wanted to do for many reasons. Not least of which was that I suspected Nicholas could be guilty of the crime of killing the woman whose belongings he now needed to sort through. Still, it seemed the right thing to do was to offer my assistance.
“Thank you,” he said genuinely, taking a step closer to me. I wanted to back away, but it seemed rude. “I know we are not actually family, Rose. Not in the blood sense, anyway. But I think of you as family now. The offer of help goes both ways. Should you ever need anything, feel f
ree to reach out to me.”
I smiled up at him, hoping it looked more natural than it felt. “Thank you, Nicholas. That means a great deal.”
He nodded and then seemed to be waiting for me to leave, so he could return to what he was doing, however, I stayed put. We stared at one another for another couple of seconds before Nicholas tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Is there anything you are looking for exactly?”
“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “I actually came down to check whether the police had inspected this room yet. Alice is anxious to have her own space again, and I offered to sleep here now that Aunt Augusta…no longer needs the room.”
“The police?” Nicholas asked, eyebrows drawn together.
My eyes were adjusting to the light in the room, but with him standing where he was a dark shadow was cast across his face, making his expression look more ominous than confused.
“Well, since the police believe the death may not have been natural,” I said as gently as I could to avoid another break down, “I assumed they would search through her things for any possible clues.”
His mouth parted in surprise, and he pushed away from the desk as though just leaning on it was polluting the scene. “I hadn’t even considered that.”
“It may be wise to talk to the police before you begin going through her things,” I said. “Just as a precaution.”
“Of course. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” He turned back to the desk, shuffled the papers into a neat stack, and then rushed from the room and into the hallway. I followed after him, closing the door behind me. “Hopefully I have not ruined any evidence. I would hate to think I kept the person involved from being captured.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” I said.
Nicholas expressed several more times that he had not even considered that his grandmother’s room could have been part of the investigation before he finally said goodnight and walked down the hallway in the direction of his own room.