They ordered breakfast and lunch brought up, but when it came time for dinner, Julia had had enough of the close quarters. “Let’s all dress and go down,” she said, brooking no debate from their grandparents.
Grams tried, anyway. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here, where it’s quiet and private? In the dining room, we’ll be subjected to stares and whispers.”
“Bother stares and whispers,” Amelia said, with a fond look at her eldest sister. “I think we should go down. We’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Amelia’s right.” Julia shrugged one shoulder, as was her habit. But the bravado Phoebe expected didn’t materialize. Julia sounded more resigned than brave. “The longer we put off going out in public, the harder it will be later.”
“We’ll face them together, a united front,” Theo said and patted Julia’s hand. Julia smiled at him, but the gesture quickly faded, like the bloom on a week-old rose.
Sitting at Julia’s other side, Grams continued to look fretful, though she said nothing more on the subject. Phoebe wondered if part of her fretting might be due to Theo’s reappearance in Julia’s life. He had stayed away once the engagement to Gil had been announced, and though he had attended the wedding, he had left immediately afterward, without speaking to Julia.
Had he returned, hoping things would be different now? Julia’s fading smile told a disappointing story. Phoebe suspected that her sister still blamed herself for Gil’s death, that Sir Hugh’s murder and its implications hadn’t lifted that burden from Julia’s shoulders. And blaming herself, she might go on punishing herself, denying any chance of happiness in the near future. Phoebe believed Julia would be happy with Theo. Perhaps not as wealthy as she’d like to be, but contented all the same.
Grampapa had been rather quiet. While that could be a result of his enormous relief that Julia had been released or simple fatigue, Phoebe noticed him studying the pair every so often, when he thought no one would notice. Rather than mirroring Grams’s concerns, however, he looked thoughtful, as if only just realizing there might be something more than friendship between the pair. With a surge of hope, Phoebe thought perhaps Grampapa might become Theo’s biggest proponent when it came to being a suitor for Julia.
Downstairs, Grams’s fears came to fruition, but the family kept their chins high and ignored the stares. As they were led to a large table near the center of the room, however, Julia’s pace slowed. For a moment Phoebe feared she might do an about-face, but instead Julia tightened her hold on Theo’s arm and then allowed him to hold her seat for her.
When they ordered dessert, Veronica Townsend rose from a table across the room, along with her friend, Antonia Seward, and Ernie Shelton. The three had apparently formed an alliance, though Phoebe wondered how long it would last once the will had been read. They advanced toward the Renshaws’ table. Ernie and Mrs. Seward stopped and hung back, while Veronica continued until she stood beside Phoebe’s chair.
“Might we have a quick word?” the woman said. “I’ve been looking for you all day, or I’d not interrupt your dinner now.”
Phoebe’s puzzlement grew at those cryptic words. After exchanging a brief glance with Owen, she excused herself to her family and allowed Veronica to draw her away from the table.
“I overheard something yesterday,” the woman said. “Something you were discussing with Inspector Lewis after we were all dismissed. I couldn’t help it. I paused outside the open door to the meeting room to adjust my ankle strap, and I heard you talking. You mentioned Ireland.”
“Yes, we did. It’s something Gil and Sir Hugh had in common recently, and it might have stirred up enough controversy to cause what happened to them.”
“I’ve debated whether or not to mention this. It might have no bearing on anything. Then again, it could be the key the police are searching for, now that it looks as though your sister is innocent.”
Phoebe didn’t like Veronica’s ambiguous choice of words concerning Julia’s innocence, but she let that pass.
The woman moved closer. Her gaze darted around the dining room, and then her voice plunged to a whisper. “Did you know Mildred Blair is half Irish? On her mother’s side.”
Phoebe jolted with surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes. She doesn’t like talking about it much, but Gil knew all about it. Seems her mother came to this country to work as a domestic, married, and had Mildred.”
“And her father?”
“Dead.”
“Do you know if she still has family in Ireland?”
“I should say so. I understand her mother eventually went back. Mildred periodically receives post from County Clare, and I’ve a suspicion she sends money there. I tried asking her about it once, but she got a sour look on her face and walked away. She works hard at being a modern British woman. I suppose it hurts her pride, acknowledging her low origins.”
Phoebe wanted to admonish Veronica for that last opinion, but another concern took precedence. “If you heard us talking with the inspector yesterday, why didn’t you come in and tell us this?”
Veronica pulled up tall and sniffed. “I didn’t like to. I don’t wish to be involved. If you or the police question Mildred, she is not to know you learned of her Irish background from me. I’ll deny having said a word.”
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
“Mildred, of course,” the woman replied, as if speaking to an idiot. “She’s spiteful, and I’ve no doubt she’d devise some way to make my life difficult. You saw how she got Gil’s solicitor to come all this way. With Gil gone, she should be out of my life by now, yet she’s managed not only to hang on but also to continue to hold sway over Gil’s estate. I don’t know how she does it, but I tell you truly, I don’t wish to have her for an enemy.”
Mildred Blair—spiteful? Arrogant, icy, yes. Phoebe had seen that much for herself, as had Eva. Veronica’s fear of her, and this new information, certainly shed new suspicion that Mildred Blair might have had reasons to want both Gil and Sir Hugh dead. But one question remained: Why now? Why not a year ago? Or two? Unless, Gil’s marriage and his apparent happiness struck some violent chord in her and prompted her to violence.
“What was that all about?” Grams asked when Phoebe returned to her seat. Amelia leaned closer to hear her reply. Across the table, Julia watched her, her eyebrows drawn tightly inward.
“Just a bit of gossip,” Phoebe said. “Nothing important, really.”
Julia’s gaze remained on her for several more seconds, her expression one of disbelief. Phoebe didn’t wish to discuss the matter here, and both Grams and Julia seemed to be of the same mind, for they asked no further questions. Grampapa and Owen were engaged in conversation, but Owen’s brief glance assured Phoebe he had been thoroughly aware of her exchange with Veronica.
“I thought I heard her say something about—”
Fox fell silent when Phoebe nudged his shinbone under the table. She shot him a warning glare for good measure.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Julia came to her feet. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
This got Grampapa’s attention. “Anything wrong, my dear?”
“Yes, Julia, you’re looking rather pale.” Grams scrutinized her from across the table. “Are you feeling all right?”
“It’s nothing. I’m quite fine, and I’ll be right back.”
“Shall I go with you?” Amelia offered, but Julia shook her head and left before anyone else could question her.
Her sudden departure filled Phoebe with unease. Had Julia overheard what Veronica had confided in her? Perhaps she’d gone to find Mildred Blair and confront her. But Julia hadn’t yet learned about Gil’s and Hugh’s actions in Ireland, and how those actions might have brought someone to Cowes, seeking revenge.
One of Miss Blair’s relatives? Possible. Miss Blair herself? She certainly would have had opportunity. Phoebe longed for the dessert course to end. She needed to contact Detective Inspector Lewis and then make sure Mildred Bl
air didn’t suddenly disappear.
* * *
Eva had the evening hours after supper to herself. She didn’t wish to raise Lady Phoebe’s hopes, but she left the hotel with a particular goal in mind. After setting off east, she passed the shops and hotels along Cowes Parade. At the first of the piers, she turned in and stepped onto the wooden planking, the vibration and slight swaying beneath her feet a familiar if still rather unwelcome sensation.
“I wish to hire your services again,” she said to the grizzled, weathered boatman when she found him in his skiff. Sounder-looking vessels lined the docks, but she had only so much money to spare, so this man would have to do. She only hoped he didn’t wander off and leave her stranded again.
“What happened to you the other night, by the way?” she demanded of him. “Why did you leave us at the Georgiana?”
“There were a boat a-coming, miss. Knowing as how you two were out there on the sly, I thought it best to row away and come back for ye when the coast was clear.”
Oddly, his explanation satisfied her, and Eva prepared to step down into the rowboat. She didn’t know what made her glance landward at the roadway and then toward the Royal Yacht Squadron building beyond. Perhaps the instinct for secrecy prompted her to ensure she was not being watched. Not that she was doing anything wrong. But in those quick glances, she spied something that made her step away from the skiff.
“Ye change your mind, did ye?”
Eva gave a dismissive wave. By the time she reached the walkway between piers, a sense of urgency gripped her. Darkness had fallen, but there could be no mistake. Lady Julia had walked by, accompanied by a tall man who might have been mistaken for bald had he been glimpsed in the utter darkness of the Georgiana’s dining room in the middle of the night.
He wore a tan bowler. Eva had seen him with it before, but it simply hadn’t occurred to her that this could be what the deck steward had seen that night.
The pair hurried along, stiffly, neither appearing to speak a word. Lady Julia was under strict orders from Detective Inspector Lewis to remain at the hotel under her grandparents’ supervision. He would see this as a violation of her release agreement and, perhaps, an admission of guilt.
Eva dashed in pursuit but hung back far enough not to be noticed. The more she observed, the more a warning sounded inside her. The very fact that Lady Julia wasn’t wearing a coat proved she hadn’t left the hotel of her own will, and if Eva still had any doubts, the object being pressed to her side, barely visible unless one truly looked, convinced her.
They reached the long pier just beyond the Royal Yacht Squadron. A host of craft of all sorts and sizes lined the dock. Lady Julia’s high-heeled pumps raised a clatter on the boards, and the bouncing of the structure nearly made Eva reach for the nearest piling as she followed them.
She darted behind one of those pilings when Curtis Mowbry glanced over his shoulder. Steadying herself with both hands, she peeked around the weathered beam. Mr. Mowbry was nudging Lady Julia along a ramp and then onto the stern of a launch, a smaller version of the one that had brought the wedding guests out to Lord Annondale’s yacht.
Mr. Mowbry dragged the ramp onto the boat, and they disappeared into the cabin. Every instinct urged Eva to alert someone, and she stepped away from the piling with just that intention. But at the same moment Mr. Mowbry reappeared on deck and climbed into the wheelhouse.
He hadn’t cast off the lines yet. Another instinct overrode all others—the instinct to protect. Eva ran on her toes to muffle her footsteps. As she reached the boat, she hesitated for one agonizing moment. Then, searching for any sign of Mr. Mowbry and seeing none, she leaped across the gap between the pier and the boat and ducked into the cabin. The effort left her doubled over and gasping for breath. Movement caught her eye, and through the port windows she spied his figure moving aft. Lines thudded as he dropped them onto the deck. A moment later, the vibration of the engine surged and the vessel lurched, nearly tossing Eva off her feet. Her stomach flipped and then flopped as the boat veered to the starboard, away from the pier.
Only now did she survey her surroundings, both dark and empty but for boating equipment, built-in seating, and cupboards. A companionway directly ahead of her appeared to lead downward. He would be kept busy, she reasoned, guiding the boat through the harbor. She went to the companionway and very carefully opened its door, knowing the wheelhouse was right above her head.
Six steps brought her to the lower level, where a tiny passageway revealed three doors, all closed. She tried the one nearest. The latch moved easily, and the door opened upon a marine head. Eva tried the next and found this one locked. The third door opened, and she discovered two berths inside, both empty. After returning to the locked door, she pressed up against it.
“Lady Julia?” She didn’t dare speak in more than a whisper.
“Eva,” came a hissing reply. “Goodness, is that you? I can’t get out.”
A locked door had never deterred Eva before, thanks to childhood lessons from her brother, Danny. Even that small reminiscence brought a pang to her heart, but she eased aside memories of him and reached up to slide a hairpin from her coif.
Within minutes the door opened, and a pair of arms nearly strangled her. “Eva, thank God. You’ve brought help, yes?” Lady Julia hugged Eva tightly once more before pulling away. “You did, didn’t you?”
“There wasn’t time. It was either jump aboard while Mr. Mowbry wasn’t looking or risk losing you forever. We’ll have to subdue him on our own.”
“There’s three of us, actually.” Lady Julia stepped aside and gestured at the lower berth.
Eva gasped. Mildred Blair lay prone on her side, her eyes shut, her arms and legs bound with rope. A gag bit cruelly into the lower half of her face.
“She was already here when Curtis shoved me in,” Lady Julia said. “I haven’t had time yet to try to revive her.”
Eva crouched beside the berth and worked at the knot holding the gag in place. “Set to work on her ankles, my lady.” Within moments, Eva slid the gag free and dropped it to the deck. She tapped Miss Blair’s cheeks, at the same time saying, “He held something to your side, my lady. Was it a gun?”
“Yes. He’s armed. Only when we reached this boat did I realize how stupid I was to go with him. As if he would have fired on me in plain sight of everyone in the hotel lobby or along the parade.”
“He’s a vicious killer, my lady. You don’t know what he would have done. You did the right thing.”
“Let’s hope so, Eva.”
Miss Blair stirred, groaning.
“She’s waking up,” Eva said.
“Wh-what’s happening?” Miss Blair tried to sit up, and when she couldn’t, she began to struggle. She wiggled her arms and legs, making Eva and Lady Julia’s work all the more difficult.
“Miss Blair, we’re trying to help you. Lie still and we’ll untie you,” Eva told her.
Eva’s stomach hadn’t stopped its pitching. She swallowed and bit her lower lip to give herself something else to focus on and worked the knots holding Miss Blair’s wrists until her fingertips ached. A sense of panic began to set in. At any moment Mr. Mowbry could decide to check on his captives, and they would be defenseless to protect themselves. She could only hope navigating the harbor would keep him busy long enough. He must be heading out to open water, she surmised, and there would be a host of vessels in his way. But which way was he heading? East or west into the English Channel?
“There,” Lady Julia declared, pulling the rope free of Miss Blair’s ankles. “What happened, Mildred? How did Mr. Mowbry get you here?”
Miss Blair rubbed at her cheeks and chin and worked her mouth open and closed to ease the tension of the gag. Then she said, “He told me he had some new evidence to show me.” She lowered her gaze and peeked sheepishly out from beneath her lashes. “He said it incriminated you, Julia, along with Ernie. I foolishly let him bring me here. The next thing I knew . . . Well, here you two are.”
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br /> “We don’t have time for explanations.” Eva went to the door and listened for any sign of Mr. Mowbry approaching. A thought suddenly sent her pivoting to face the other women. She crossed the small space and gripped Miss Blair’s shoulders. “How do we know you’re not working with him? That you’re being here, tied up, isn’t a ploy to deceive us into trusting you?”
Miss Blair looked utterly taken aback. She rubbed at her wrists, and Eva saw they were bruised and raw. Miss Blair then raised a hand to the crown of her head. She winced and let out a moan. “Feel this, Miss Huntford. It should convince you.” Miss Blair took Eva’s hand and guided it to a sizable lump beneath her hair. “If I were working with Curtis, would I have allowed him to do this to me?”
Eva shook her head. “No, I can’t see you or anyone agreeing to that. My apologies. Now . . .” She moved back to the door. “We need to find some sort of weapons. One supposes on a boat, that could mean just about anything.”
“Follow me.” Miss Blair squeezed past Eva into the passageway, then led them up the few steps into the upper cabin. There she began opening cupboards, careful not to make a sound. Eva and Lady Julia watched her but remained alert for any movement outside the windows.
Eva’s heart thudded in her throat. “Hurry,” she urged in a whisper, still wondering what Miss Blair was searching for. Taking matters into her own hands, she went to a cupboard Miss Blair had already opened and took down a heavy steel wrench and a mallet. She handed the wrench to Lady Julia. “These will do.”
“No they won’t.” Miss Blair opened another cupboard, and this time she pulled out a metal box with a handle and a flip latch. “Here. This should do the trick.” She opened the box to reveal two pistols.
Eva’s stomach turned leaden. “You’re suggesting we kill him?”
“I don’t think I could.” Lady Julia backed away from Miss Blair. “No matter how much he may deserve it.”
A Murderous Marriage Page 26