Masquerade at Middlecrest Abbey, page 13
Adrian peeked into the busy room before shaking his head. “This is not a place for young ladies.”
Phoebe gave him a pert frown and crossed her arms. “I am not an idiot, nor a hoyden. I only mean to help Mrs. Coombs.”
“Not this time. Off to your room. I’ll be by to speak with you all shortly.”
I could tell she thought about pouting. One last hard look at Adrian and she turned to leave.
He watched her departure with an odd expression before extending an arm to me. His voice came out tight. “I cannot be certain, but I suspect we have found our murderer. Although I cannot believe he acted without help.”
“And the household—”
“Is not in any danger at present. Our unexpected guest is hardly in a position to make an escape, and he will never be left alone.”
I peeked behind me to be certain we were out of earshot. “What leads you to believe he’s the one who murdered Giles? There is more to this business than simply being a Frenchman.”
Adrian quirked a smile. “Most definitely.” He motioned with his chin. “Browning found a bit of grayish-white powder in the seam of the man’s boots.”
“Could he possibly be the same man you were supposed to have robbed that day on the road?”
“That is precisely what I think.”
I paused for a moment, my thoughts running wild. “But if that is true, why on earth would he murder Giles?”
“Clearly there is more to this mystery than we have ascertained, which is one of the reasons why I’ve moved him into this back room. Browning and I need to question him. We shall send word to our people in the admiralty as well. If at all possible, I’d prefer Browning be the one to take him to our people in London. That is, as soon as the man is well enough to travel. I simply don’t trust the authorities around here. We shall have to let them question him, but I don’t want them taking him into custody. It shall be a delicate affair.”
I looked up in faint surprise. “That is quite risky, don’t you think? And in the meantime? Is he to remain here in our house?”
He gave that roguish shrug of his as if such a gesture was all the reassurance I needed. “Do not be anxious, Elizabeth. He’ll be bound and watched”—his eyes found mine—“very closely.”
* * *
I found Phoebe near the landing the following day, gazing out a window. I called her name, but she was so distracted I was forced to touch her arm to gain her attention, and then she staggered backward as if I’d caught her doing something naughty. She gave me some ridiculous story about watching a bird and then hurried on her way, leaving me a bit cold and confused. I looked out the window myself but saw nothing untoward on the east lawn. Whatever she had been watching with such intensity was long gone.
Equally disconcerting, I later stumbled upon Juliana perched in a nearby alcove laughing with Ewan Hawkins, who knelt before her in some sort of dramatic display. Of course, he popped up off the floor as soon as I approached, pretending all too easily he’d not been enjoying himself.
“Pardon me.” He stifled a chuckle, his right hand hard at work wiping the smile from his chin while his left one ducked behind him. “I didn’t realize you were there, your ladyship.” Decorum crept back into his face.
Juliana stood as well and swept over to my side, belatedly taking my arm in a way she would never have done if Mr. Hawkins were not in our company. “Do not regard my dear Ewan. He is nothing but a tease.” To him she said, “Perhaps it is best for you to go.” A lingering laugh accompanied her words. “I’d like to speak with my new mama alone.”
Ewan bowed and made his escape, clearly unconcerned by what I must think of their improper behavior. I, however, could not but remark on the familiarity between them, the use of their Christian names. This was the first spark of life I’d seen from Juliana since Giles’s death.
She turned to me, her earlier reticence returning. “Will you accompany me to the sitting room?”
I was wary of Juliana’s newfound charity, but I had promised her father to forge a friendship. “Certainly.”
Adrian’s daughters frequented a large sitting area on the upper floor most afternoons. I was surprised to find the room empty as Juliana led me through the door. The small room, though a bit dark, housed a well-tended fire and comfortable seats. It didn’t take me long to see why the girls enjoyed the space. It was a relaxing affair with yellow walls trimmed in white, accented by thick, damask drapes that fell like waterfalls on either side of two spacious windows.
I relaxed in a wingback chair while Juliana took a nearby candle to light the wall sconces.
“There, that’s a bit better.” She eyed the door, then took a seat in the chair across from me. She smoothed out her skirt first once then twice before finally clearing her throat. “I brought you here because I don’t want you to misunderstand about Ewan. It would only cause trouble for him. We grew up together, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.” I delayed any further words, trying to make sense of what she had said. “What do you mean, grew up together? I thought he was Giles’s friend, here to play best man at the wedding.”
“He was Giles’s dear friend, but he is also ours. You see, years ago Papa found him in London in a workhouse. Dear Ewan was only ten years old and I nine. Maybe it was the disfigurement of his hand or something else, but Papa’s heart was touched. He grew angry with how Ewan was being treated, and what do you know, but Papa brought him here. Ewan was tutored at Middlecrest alongside Phoebe and me—like a brother—until he was ready for Cambridge.” She adjusted her back. “Papa made it quite clear there is to be nothing romantic between us, and there never will be. I could not consider marrying a man of questionable birth, if you get my meaning.”
Though she was only echoing the sentiment of every other well-bred female as well as her father’s, I could not help but think of Isaac and my cousins, Sybil and her twin brother, Harland, who had grown up in their own mix of questionable circumstances. I had discovered years ago that in many cases, life should not be so easily labeled. “I understand . . . a little.”
I must have sounded irritated, for she shot me a pointed glare, the earlier joy vanishing from her face. “Then you must think I disrespect Giles’s memory by enjoying another’s company.”
“Juliana, that is not what I said or meant.”
“Didn’t you?”
She intended to goad me into an argument, and I would have none of that. “I can see clear as day you loved Giles and he you. I would never suggest such a thing.”
She choked back a tearful breath, and I handed her my handkerchief. She perked up at the offer, her eyes glistening with tears. “Giles and I cared for each other a great deal, even though we knew each other such a short time.” She stole a peek over the handkerchief. “Did he by any chance say anything about me?” A sniff. “The night before he died?”
All at once I wondered if she was running her own investigation into Giles’s murder, or if something else spurred the question. “He did tell me he wanted to protect you.” I lifted my eyelashes. “He told me he was worried about something.”
She shifted in her chair, her voice rising an octave. “Why on earth would he say he needed to protect me?”
“I haven’t the least idea. I thought perhaps you did after what you said just moments after he was killed. Tell me, did something happen before your father and I arrived at Middlecrest? Anything in the days leading up to the garden party?”
Her flippant confusion turned to anger. “I suppose Phoebe put you up to these questions.”
“No.” I scanned the room. “Why would she?”
Juliana fiddled with her fingers in her lap for several seconds, and it was almost a surprise when she jerked her attention back to me.
“Phoebe thought Giles’s sudden disappearance was somehow my fault.”
I froze. “What disappearance?”
“Oh, it wasn’t anything to remark, really.” She sniffed and dabbed her cheek. “He left the house a few days before you arrived. We’d quarreled about the wedding, and he told me he needed a few days to think everything over. Phoebe said I’d been far too overbearing. I didn’t mean to order him about, but I wanted everything to be perfect. He was not himself when he returned. I grew anxious he wished he could call the whole thing off, but he would never do so as a gentleman. Such a task would have been left to me.”
“Did he tell you where he went when he left?”
“No, but he could not have gone far. He was only absent for one night.”
Surely someone in the stables could fill me in on the missing details. Of course, his groom and valet had already left the estate, but others would have some idea. I looked up. “What about the morning of the garden party? Did you see him then?”
She shook her head. “After speaking with Phoebe, I had decided to carry on with the wedding as planned, unless Giles asked me to do otherwise.”
I clenched my teeth. Was it possible that Giles simply wanted to talk over his impending marriage that day he’d asked for a private meeting in the garden, or was there something else that drove him to speak so urgently to me the night before? How I wished I had not put him off.
Juliana leaned forward. “You don’t think of me differently now, do you? I could not bear for anyone to think of me in such a way.”
There was an earnest truth to the tone of her voice, and I more than anyone understood embarrassment. I gladly took her hand and whispered, “Not at all.” But as I met her gaze one last time before rising to leave, my heart stilled. There was something in those green eyes of hers. Was it guilt?
Adrian was right. Juliana’s grief had several layers, layers that might hold the key to her fiancé’s death.
Chapter 15
I spent the following afternoon in the nursery with Isaac, hard-pressed not to pour all I had learned from Juliana into Miss Barton’s willing ears. Isaac’s nurse had proved something of a friend since I’d arrived at the house, but servants tended to talk. And I needed to protect Juliana’s privacy.
Isaac was his usual happy self, darting about the room for hours, picking up and putting down everything he came in contact with. That is, until it came time for his nap. I gathered him up in my arms and looked about to do the same with his favorite blue blanket, but it was not on the nursery room floor, nor tucked in his bed where he left it sometimes. I’d noticed it missing the night I heard him crying, but I’d forgotten all about it.
I called out to Miss Barton as I scoured the room and the hall, but the well-loved scrap of fabric was nowhere. Isaac’s pudgy fingers repeatedly clenched, then released, as he added his own pitiful wail for the familiar soft fabric. Finally he smashed his chin into my shoulder, tears spilling down his cheeks. Miss Barton poked her head in the door on my third trip across the carpet.
“I guess the blanket has still not turned up.”
She splayed her hand across her chest. “Is that all? You had me worried. With all the commotion of the house, I’d forgotten to tell you I’ve still not found it.”
“How have the nights been with it gone?”
“I was terribly anxious Isaac might take a pet as he is doing now, but the poor dear has been so exhausted from our adventures of the day, he’s fallen asleep at once.”
I glanced first at the clock, then the doorway. “Well, I’m afraid he’s going to be a bear to put down today. I can’t remember the last time I’ve personally laid him down for a nap without it.”
Miss Barton caught my arm, speaking in that soothing voice I knew so well. “Please, my lady, don’t let yourself be overly concerned. Isaac and I shall manage well enough this afternoon as we have for the last two days. He only needs a little extra love. I’ll help our darling boy to bed.”
I passed Isaac’s wriggling figure over to Miss Barton’s outstretched arms, and he clutched her neck. “I cannot understand why the rattle and blanket have not turned up. Though he frequently lays his blanket down, he always comes back to claim it.”
“Nor I. It is the strangest thing. Don’t worry, I shall get him to sleep without too much of a fuss.”
I kissed Isaac’s head before sending a hand ruffling through his soft curls. “You must be a great deal better at getting him to do the difficult tasks than I am.”
She shot me a determined smile, then turned to Isaac. “Come along, Master Isaac. It’s high time you had a rest . . . with or without your beloved blanket.”
“Miss Barton.” The sound of my voice halted her steps. “Before you go, would you tell me where the two of you have spent your days? I’ve a mind to aid in the search at once.”
A fleeting wrinkle crossed her forehead. “All over, actually. There was the garden and the library, as well as the nursery, of course.”
“Of course.” I tapped my cheek. “I suppose I shall simply have to search the entire house till we find the items. But it does give me a place to start. I’ll be sure to notify Mrs. Coombs as well.” I shook my head. “What a time to lose something so dear. First the carriage accident, then the new house. Isaac has been through so much.”
Miss Barton angled her chin. “Take heart, my lady. Even if we never do find it, which I doubt very much, all he needs is right here.”
* * *
A thorough search of the drawing room, the front and rear gardens, and the chapel disappointingly turned up nothing. Somehow Isaac’s blanket and Miss Barton’s family rattle had simply vanished. In fact, Mrs. Coombs acted like she’d never even seen such offending articles and added a mumbled, “Children and toys should be kept in the nursery at all times,” as she walked away.
Mrs. Ayles spoke up from her seat on the sofa as I flew through the drawing room to add her own waspish comments about Isaac’s disturbing behavior that had been permitted in every room of the house. As far as she was concerned, such disruptive behavior included laughing, speaking, and moving any quicker than a walk. Goodness, with those restrictions, Miss Barton was the worst nursery maid she’d ever met.
I choked back a retort, preoccupied with the growing fear that we would never find the blanket. I decided to seek out Adrian and ask if he had any idea where it had gone.
One of the chambermaids scurried by as I turned to descend the grand staircase, and Young greeted me on the ground floor. With a keen eye, he directed me to the library. Apparently Mr. Browning and Adrian had spent the length of the afternoon within those four walls.
My thoughts shifted as I traversed the east hall intent on the corner room. Adrian certainly seemed to trust Mr. Browning. The gentleman had been helpful in ascertaining the cause of Giles’s death, but I didn’t know him from Adam. Should I not be a bit cautious where he was concerned?
My hand settled on the library’s heavy mahogany door and my heart constricted. Brook’s betrayal had taught me to be cautious. People unfortunately were not always what they seemed. My eyes slipped closed for a brief moment. I wondered how much Adrian had told his friend of our arrangement. Either way, I knew what I must do yet dreaded it at the same time. With Adrian and Browning ensconced in the library, I would have to display my newly refined acting skills once again. I only hoped they’d improved.
My fingers curled into a fist, and I tapped the door with as much gusto as I could muster.
“Come in.” It was Adrian.
I thrust open the door to find two inquisitive faces turned to mine, both quickly fading to surprise. Thankfully, the library was awash in a warm candlelit glow. Mr. Browning bowed from where he stood near the back shelf, a glass in his hand. Adrian sprang from his relaxed position in a chair by the fire, swinging his leg over the armrest.
“Elizabeth?”
“Darling, please, be at ease.” I flashed a smile as my gaze fell to the stacks of books gathered haphazardly on the floor. “What’s all this?”
Adrian offered me an arm and led me over to the sofa. “Browning and I have been doing a bit of research.”
I looked to Mr. Browning. “And?”
After waiting for me to take my seat, Adrian dutifully took the chair at my side. “I’m afraid we have little to report.”
Browning chuckled. “Except the possible poison.”
Adrian flicked his fingers in the air. “Well, I guess there is that.”
My eyes widened. “You mean, you’ve uncovered what Giles was given?”
“Possibly.” Adrian tipped his head back against the chair. “And possibly not. Browning thinks Giles was given arsenic, but—”
“Such a poison fits all the symptoms.” Browning crossed the room with a book in his hand. “Hours to take effect. Intestinal complaints. Loss of consciousness.”
Adrian held up his hand. “The only problem we’ve run into with our little theory is delivery. Giles ate nothing but a serving of meat and a few vegetables before his fateful ride. Not a soup or a drink that the killer could deposit the powder into. We are at a loss as to how he could have ingested it.”
I pressed my hands together in my lap. “And you’re sure that is all he ate?”
Adrian retrieved a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and held it out. “Cook gave me the list but a few hours ago.”
I accepted the paper and studied it for a few seconds. Adrian was right. Giles had ingested only a luncheon of meat and vegetables.
I slumped forward. “Where would the killer get the arsenic in the first place?”
“It’s available at the apothecary, among other places.”
“And I assume you have checked with all the local apothecary shops?”
Adrian peeked at his watch fob. “Browning plans to head to Reedwick and Plattsdale first thing tomorrow, but I doubt the killer would leave such an obvious trail.”
“And you say it is a powder?”
“Yes.” Adrian’s voice had slipped into disinterest.
“Could the vegetables have been dipped in it in some way?”
He tapped a finger on his knee. “Such a thing would hardly have gone unremarked.”
I imagined the food in the kitchen, the way it might look on the plate, how it would be served, then sat up, the hairs prickling on my arms. “But what about . . . marinated in it?”
