“Poor girl,” I whispered to Quoth. “She looks to be in shock. I cannot even imagine what she must be going through.”
“Me neither. Even if the man was horrible, she loved him dearly, and my heart goes out to her.”
The poetry reading began. I couldn’t help but notice that David looked to our corner every few moments, a disapproving expression on his face. He really didn’t like us speaking with Christina. I assumed it was just his protectiveness, but during one of the breaks between performers, Cynthia and two of her friends leaned over and asked Christina about her father, and he didn’t stop them.
Is he worried that I’ll reveal details about the murder? And that Christina might figure out who actually did it?
No, that’s insane. He’s just an insecure boy trying to look out for his friend.
Or is he?
When David’s turn came, he read an ardent and passionate love poem, his voice rising with the meter as he locked eyes with Christina. Every word in the poem he spoke to her.
Well, that’s obvious. He’s clearly smitten with her, and he must’ve planned this poem as a way to declare his love. But considering what just happened, his efforts are a bit crass! I had the feeling his annoyance at us had more to do with his wanting to keep Christina’s mind on the poetry.
When the reading was finished, Christina wandered to the back of the room for another cup of tea. “Did you enjoy the poems?” I asked her. David was already running down the aisle, his face expectant like a puppy.
“I’m afraid I didn’t hear a word of it,” she said. Behind her, David’s shoulders sagged. “I’m so upset by Daddy’s death, it all went in one ear and other the other.”
I smiled despite myself. Probably for the best. She probably doesn’t need to be forced into coming out to David on today of all days. “That’s to be expected. It really was brave of you to come to the reading today after everything that happened.”
David plastered on a brave face and joined our group. “Come with me, Christina, I’ll escort you to the memorial. Cynthia will want to speak to you before it begins—”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I think I’ll freshen up in my room.”
“I’ll walk you there,” he said. She looked ready to protest, but held out her hand and allowed David to take it.
“If you must.”
David fell over himself tripping over the chairs as he went around to take her arm and escort her out of the room. I leaned into Quoth. “It must be strange to act like that all the time.”
“Perhaps she enjoys it.” Quoth offered his arm. I took it, smiling at Quoth as I conceded his point. It had been an interesting weekend retreating into this feminine persona, where I needed a man’s arm in order to get anything done.
I might need a man’s arm in mine for the rest of my life, stopping me from banging into things.
It was hard to dwell on my own personal hell when Quoth’s calming presence was beside me. We went through to the breakfast room and helped ourselves to what little remained at the buffet. Quoth found us a table for two under a window in the darkest, loneliest corner. We poured tea and ate our food while outside, snow blanketed the lawns and parterres in a fluffy white coat.
“You’re doing very well,” I said, buttering my croissant like the heathen Englishwoman I was. “No urges to fly away?”
“Strangely, no.” Quoth sipped his tea. “I wonder if it’s something in the familiarity of the clothing, the speech, the conversation. It’s weird to think that so many years in the future, people look back at our books with such a romantic nostalgia.”
“I have to admit, you look damn sexy in that cravat,” I smiled, sliding my hand up his leg under the table. He did at that. The high, stiff collar framed his perfect face, making his skin appear even paler. It was probably a good thing the Brontë Society ladies hadn’t got their claws into him yet.
“Thank you.” Quoth set down his fork. I noticed he had no eggs on his plate. I guess eating eggs was weird when you were a bird. He cleared his throat. “Mina, I don’t like to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell Morrie and Heathcliff about the fireworks.”
“Nope.” I stabbed a sausage with more violence than I intended. It skidded across the table. Quoth caught it before it toppled off the edge.
“They’re going to figure out that something is wrong, if they haven’t already.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I just want more time to enjoy being with all of you, being a normal person, before the world turns dark forever and I become an invalid.”
“You’re never going to be an invalid to us.” Quoth’s hand rested on mine. “Ever since I arrived here, I’ve felt less than Morrie and Heathcliff. I’ve known there are things in this world that can never belong to me. But you made me realize that isn’t true. The only disability is in my own mind, and the only thing holding me back is my fear. And now,” he gestured to the spread in front of us, and the smile on his lips melted my heart. “Here I am, eating breakfast in public with the most kind and beautiful woman.”
“It’s different.” It wasn’t different. I stared at my plate, struggling to hold back the tears prickling in the corners of my eyes.
Quoth laughed, the sound like tinkling chimes. “It hurts me to see you like this. Just because the lights are fading in your eyes, don’t let your own light burn out. Please, promise you’ll think about it.”
A bell rang, signaling the end of the hour and the time for the memorial garden party to begin. Grateful for a distraction from a conversation that was rapidly descending toward breaking me open and dragging out all my dark thoughts, I leaped to my feet. Quoth helped me into my coat (actually, Heathcliff’s coat, but he wasn’t going to miss it), and we joined the throng of people waiting for a break in the falling snow to dash out to the orangery.
Morrie ran down the stairs – dressed in a new outfit of pale breeches, a midnight-blue topcoat with gold detail, and a shiny sword – and sidled up to us. “Yo, little birdie, I’m going to need my lanyard. And my girl.”
“I thought I might escort Mina to the garden party—” Quoth started.
“Nope.” Morrie elbowed Quoth out of the way. “Too many people. Too great a risk. See you later.”
“No. Quoth, wait.” I tightened my grip on his arm. “Morrie, you’re being unbelievably rude. Can’t Quoth and I enjoy the morning ourselves? I thought you’d be too busy snooping around for clues about our murder.”
Morrie straightened his shoulder. “I didn’t want to have to say this, but I need to talk to you about something.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that true, or are you trying to get away from Lydia?”
“Mina, it’s fine, really. He’s right. There are too many people out here. I shall return to the shop and see you later.” Quoth dropped my arm, sinking into the crowd before I could stop him.
“You’re mine again.” Morrie placed my arm in his.
“I’m angry at you. I’m only holding onto you because it’s freezing, and the ground is slippery and I don’t want to fall over.”
“Sure, gorgeous, I believe you.”
As the crowd swept us along, I glanced over my shoulder. Quoth stood on the top of the stairs, his long hair sweeping down his back, his face serene. He raised his hand and gave me a quick wave.
Morrie just acted like a total dick, and Quoth doesn’t care.
A wave of sadness swept over me. For all his fine words, deep down he still believed he was less than. Quoth just took all the shit life handed him. But he shouldn’t have to take it from his friends.
We stepped out into the bitter cold. My teeth chattered as I fought to get the words out. “What you did just then was cruel.”
“If you say so.” Morrie shrugged. “Quoth knows I’m right. Besides, if I’m down here with you, Heathcliff has no choice but to escort Lydia.”
Anger bubbled in my veins. “I knew that was you sole motivation! You robbed Quoth of this chance to enjoy time with me
and to hone his skills at remaining human. He’s getting so much better now. He could have managed at the garden party. And if he had trouble he could have slipped into the bushes and shifted without a hassle.”
Morrie held up his lanyard. “This badge has my name on it. Quoth doesn’t have a ticket. You made your choice. Face it, Mina, you’re just as cruel as I am, only I’m the one who’ll say it to his face.”
I opened my mouth to protest more, but Cynthia swept in, her hair immaculate. She wrapped my freezing hands in hers. “I’m so sorry, Mina, that you had to see what you saw last night. And then to find those horrid words on your door! Why, it’s just too much! I thought this weekend would help you forget about gruesome murders, but instead, I’ve landed you in the middle of one. What a nasty business.”
“Yes,” I tried to step around her, but her umbrella blocked the path. Cold snow pelted my bare face.
“Have the police caught the killer yet?”
“Just because I f-f-found the body doesn’t mean the police h-h-have to let me in on their case.”
Cynthia moved her umbrella to the other side. Sensing my opportunity, I surged forward, but Morrie yanked me back to his side.
“I imagine they’re still processing the evidence from the scene,” Morrie said, tightening his grip on my arm, locking me in place. “I believe they thought it might’ve been an opportunistic killing?”
“Yes. Christina’s stolen jewelry may link this case to that terrible thief.” Cynthia shuddered. “The murderer must have been skulking around the grounds when he noticed the jewels, came in the window, and stuck our dear professor right through so he could make his getaway. But I don’t understand why he went upstairs and wrote that note on your door. I just hate to think someone might be casing our home! Grey has engaged a security firm from London,” she pointed to a row of burly, black-clad security guards barking orders at each other through headsets. “Apparently, they look after rock bands and movie stars, so they shall keep the rest of us safe.”
“Yes, well, thank you.” I wrenched Morrie around her. “We must go find a seat.”
“Where’s the fire, gorgeous?” Morrie jogged after me.
“In the orangery.” I pointed to a glowing brazier in the large building. “And considering my lips are about to fall off, I need to go and hug it. Why would you keep Cynthia talking? You know she never says anything of substance, and I already can’t feel my feet.”
“I was trying to find out more information. I thought she might reveal any leads the police were following.”
We emerged onto the wider garden path leading down to the orangery. I dragged my frozen feet forward, my body curling in on itself with every step. Just a little further, Mina, and then you’ll get to be next to that nice warm heater, and enjoy a hot cup of tea—
“Mina, can I talk to you?” Alice appeared in front of me, her lips drawn in a tight line.
Nooooooo. “S-s-sure. We could just go inside and stand by the fire—”
“No,” Alice grabbed me under the arm and tugged me away from Morrie. “Not near any people. Come with me.”
“I’ll save you a seat by the brazier!” Morrie called after me.
Alice dragged me across the lawn and yanked me down behind a parterre. I threw out my hand to break my fall, yelping as I slammed my fingers into the icy snow.
“Sorry.” Alice crouched beside me. “I don’t want anyone to see us. If someone asks what we’re doing here, say you were helping me look for an earring.”
“You’re good at s-s-subterfuge,” I said, rubbing my frozen hands together. “Wh-wh-why are we crouching in the snow instead of inside with the fire and hot chocolate—”
“I don’t know who else to trust,” Alice’s eyes widened as she pulled her earring out of her ear. “But then I saw what was written on your door, and I knew I had to tell you what I know.”
“Wh-wh-what’s that?”
“I know who killed Professor Hathaway, and it wasn’t the Argleton Jewel Thief. It was—”
“Alice, there you are! What are you doing down there?”
Professor Carmichael peered down at us, a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Mina was helping me search for my earring, but I think it’s gone forever.” Alice stood up so fast as sent a cascade of snow from the edge of the parterres down on me. I stood up, stuttering out a greeting through my freezing lips.
“That’s a shame.” Professor Carmichael touched Alice’s arm. “Alice, I thought you might like to sit with me. I’ll be able to make corrections to any false statements made about Hathaway during the memorial.”
“Of course,” Alice’s eyes darted to me. “Mina? You coming?”
I nodded, falling in step beside them. What had Alice been about to say? Who was the killer?
At the entrance of the orangery, Professor Carmichael was pulled aside by a Janeite asking about her book. Alice turned to me and hissed. “We can’t talk here, in case someone overhears. Can you sneak out of the party and meet me in the Sacro Bosco?” She pointed to a path on the corner of the formal gardens that lead off into the wood.
“Alice, if you know who the killer is, you should talk to the police—”
“I can’t.” She gulped. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need to stop the killer before they hurt anyone else, but I can’t go to the police. Please, Mina, promise you’ll meet me?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you.”
“There’s a statue of three maenads dancing just off the path to the right. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes. Thank you, Mina, really. I… I need to talk to someone about this.” Alice’s shoulder slumped. Her beautiful eyes were wide, terrified. Whatever was going on, I had a feeling it wasn’t just about getting her scoop anymore.
I followed Alice into the orangery, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. What does Alice know? What’s she going to tell me?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“A garden party on one of the coldest days of the year?” Morrie passed me a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a cream scone with a layer of ice on top. “This is the cleverest idea!”
I nodded, too cold even to voice my agreement with his sarcasm. Luckily, Morrie had scored us a seat near the glowing brazier that did little to heat the cavernous space.
In the days when Baddesley Hall was a working estate, this grand building with its irrigation slits in the floor would have been used to grow fruit trees in pots and protect them during the harsh winter months. It wasn’t exactly built with entertaining in mind. Fairy lights spilling from a hanging basket on the ceiling and long tables adorned with centerpieces of winter herbs and vegetables looked spectacular but did little to distract from the biting wind and increasingly heavy snowfall outside. Several of Cynthia’s new security detail had already been co-opted to place additional heaters around the room. The band in the corner played carols beside a towering pine tree, reminding me that I hadn’t even started my Christmas shopping yet. Outside, the patio area had been cleared of snow, and the braver among the guests were indulging in a game of croquet.
“Ah, Lydia must have forced Sir Grumpsalot downstairs.” Morrie pointed. Across the patio, Lydia dragged Heathcliff around the croquet field, explaining the rules in a loud, patronizing tone while her other suitors laughed. I noticed he wore his sword at his side. As Lydia lined up her next shot, Heathcliff met my eye and mimed hitting her over the head. I stifled a giggle.
As I sipped my chocolate, Lydia scored point after point. David came to speak to her. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her away. Heathcliff stared after them for a few minutes, then shrugged and dashed inside to join us.
“Shouldn’t you be tailing her every move?” Morrie asked, lifting his teacup to his lips. “What if David is really our murderer?”
I remembered that we’d seen David win match after match during the fencing demonstration, and how the rumor was going around that the killer was a skilled swordsperson. “Yes, maybe we shouldn’t let her
out of our sight.”
“I’ve been standing outside in the snow for fifteen minutes trying to hit a stupid ball with a mallet. My balls have shriveled up into my body. I say let her be murdered,” Heathcliff growled. “It would serve her right for blackmailing us.”
“No argument.” Morrie placed the teapot in front of him. “Tea? Guaranteed to heal your soul and unshrink your testicles.”
“No thanks.” Heathcliff pulled his flask out of the top of his breeches and knocked back a deep sip.
“While you’ve been playing nursemaid, Mina might just be able to unmask our killer,” Morrie said. Heathcliff’s hand circled my thigh, and as quietly as I could, I relayed the conversation with Alice that I’d whispered to Morrie as soon as I’d entered the orangery.
“You’re not going alone,” Heathcliff growled. “Take Morrie and Quoth with you.”
“What about you?”
“I’m still warming my nuts. Besides, someone has to keep eyes on Lydia. I’m not a complete monster.”
I smiled at Heathcliff, warmed by his words. Maybe he was starting to see himself the way I saw him.
I glanced at my phone. Ten minutes until I had to meet Alice. Christina hurried in, adorned with an elegant black gown. She took her seat at a table near the front, staring at her clasped hands. Cynthia took her place beneath the Christmas tree, adjusting her solemn black hat. The band ground to a halt. Cynthia tapped the microphone. “If I could have your attention. Welcome all, to the Julius Hathaway memorial garden party. I thank you for braving the inclement weather to be here to pay your respects to this remarkable man who was taken from us in the height of his prime. He had so many more years of Austen scholarship to teach us, and I know we all hope that his daughter Christina will continue the fine tradition he established.”
I watched Christina while Cynthia spoke, admiring her composure. Beside her, David rubbed her shoulder and offered her a tea. Behind him, Lydia made a rude gesture Morrie must’ve taught her.
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