Death at the Manor, page 1
DEATH
AT THE
MANOR
A LILY ADLER
MYSTERY
Katharine Schellman
For Reagan, because it takes a village, and she created a wonderful one. And for Brian, because we’re in this together.
CHAPTER 1
Portsmouth, England
“Admit it, Captain, you are delighted to be heading to sea once more.” Lily Adler gave a pointed look to the man seated across the table from her, the light that straggled through the inn’s dirty window catching on the gold buttons of his coat. “You’ll not spend a moment thinking of us once you are aboard ship.”
The inn was respectable, and the meal served in the private dining room had been surprisingly good fare. But everything this close to the docks in Portsmouth seemed to be dingy, and the autumn light that clung to the afternoon was cold and meager. Lily had arrived that morning in the carriage of Sir Edward and Lady Carroway, who had offered to accompany her to bid Captain Jack Hartley farewell. Lily had been glad they would only be there for a few hours when she had first looked around the port city. But now that it was nearly time for their departure, she wished she could start the day over again. She was not ready to say goodbye to her friend, for who knew how long.
But she hid her sadness behind a light and teasing tone, not wanting to put a damper on the day. Jack had been so eager to get back to sea, she didn’t want him to know how much she would miss him when he was gone.
Now, he ran a hand through his black hair, shaking his head and smiling. “I’ve been on land so long this year, I do not know what I will feel. I had begun to think the ship’s repairs would never be done.”
“Be honest, Captain Hartley.” The young woman seated at one end of the table leaned forward. “Do you think you have lost your sea legs after all this time? Shall you become seasick and shame yourself in front of your crew?”
Jack laughed. “If I do, Lady Carroway, I shall confess it only to you, and I will expect you to keep such an admission in the strictest confidence.”
“Oh, I could never do that!” she protested, laughing with him. “I would have to tell Neddy.” She smiled at her husband as she stood and reached across the small table to steal the mug of ale from in front of him, quaffing it with a cheerful enjoyment that stood in sharp contrast to her expensive, modish gown and otherwise elegant manner.
“Ofelia,” her husband said mildly, not really objecting. She giggled at him and took another drink before sliding it back across the table. He caught it just before it slid right off the edge.
“But not Mrs. Adler?” Jack asked, looking from Ofelia to Lily and raising an eyebrow.
“I would not need to. Mrs. Adler would know the moment she next saw you,” Ofelia said impishly.
Lily smiled. “No one can hide a guilty conscience from me, sir.”
“As several unfortunate souls have found out,” Ned Carroway added, raising his mug in a toast. “The murderers of London quail before you.”
“Hardly,” Lily protested, feeling her cheeks heat as the other two raised their drinks toward her as well—Ofelia this time lifting one of the glasses of wine that the innkeeper had brought for the ladies.
Her friends were not wrong. After stumbling across a dead body the very first night she’d returned to London, Lily had found herself swept into a frightening puzzle that had only been solved when she unmasked the killer behind what had become known as the Harper murders. And then, when the furor from that had finally died down, the death of one of her father’s oldest friends had caught her up in another scandal and intrigue, that one a tangled mess of love and desperation.
Ofelia and Ned had been there for both. And so had Jack. Lily met his eyes as he drank the toast, grinning at her. Jack had been her companion and co-conspirator for months, helping her find her feet in the world after the death of her husband—his friend—and keeping her safe when she insisted on putting herself in danger. She didn’t know what she was going to do without him.
Glancing at his pocket watch, Ned Carroway groaned and hauled himself to his feet. “I must see about having horses put to our carriage,” he said. “We shall need to leave within the half hour if we’re to arrive at your aunt’s home before dark.”
“I shall come with you,” Ofelia said, jumping up. “Mrs. Adler, Captain, we will see you outside?” Her gaze lingered pointedly on Jack for a moment before she took her husband’s arm and allowed him to escort her from the room.
“What did that mean?” Lily asked.
“What?” Jack, who had been eyeing the Carroways’ departure with his mouth twisted into a wry smile, turned back toward her, his brows rising.
“That odd look she gave you.” Lily frowned. There was nothing really wrong in their being left alone together—only the strictest of moralists would raise an eyebrow at it, as Lily was nearly three years widowed and Jack had been the childhood friend of her late husband. But there had been something almost guilty in the way Ofelia had looked at him.
“If you don’t know, then I am sure I do not,” Jack said, his voice unconcerned as he turned his mug of ale in fidgety circles.
It was almost as if he didn’t want to meet her eyes, Lily thought, and she was debating whether to press the matter, when he looked up and grinned at her.
“Shall you get into trouble with me away? It does seem to follow you.”
Lily laughed. “I doubt it. I cannot imagine anything odd happening at the home of my aunt and Miss Clarke, and I have been visiting them for enough years by this point.”
“Against the will of your father?” Jack suggested.
Lily shrugged. “Most things I do are against the will of my father, as he made so clear when he was last in London. That has not stopped me before, and it will not stop me now.” She smiled, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her clasped hands. “I wish you could come with me. You would like my aunt very much.”
“I remember her from your wedding,” Jack said, clearing his throat and leaning back abruptly in his chair. “Miss Pierce seemed like exactly the sort of woman you shall grow up to be.”
“Why, am I not grown now?” Lily teased as she stood up. Jack, always a model of politeness, did the same. “Will you write me?”
“Of course. I shall tell you how revered I am aboard ship and how no one ever dares tell me I am wrong about anything. Perhaps it will influence you and Lady Carroway to treat me with more respect when I return.”
Lily smiled, holding out her hands to him. It was easier to be honest, now they were in private. “I shall miss your teasing, Jack, but I am glad you will be back with your ship. I know how you have missed it.”
“And I shall miss you, of course. Though being back at sea may seem dull in comparison to being in London when Mrs. Adler is in town.” His own hands were large and warm as they closed around hers, his expression growing more serious as he met her eyes. “Is that all you will miss while we are both away?”
“I dread to think what that might mean.” Lily swatted him on the shoulder, pretending to be offended. “If you mean to imply that I have been seeking out trouble in London—”
For a moment Jack’s serious expression lingered, but before she had a chance to wonder at it, his teasing grin returned once more. He captured her hand and looped it through his arm, leading her from the dining room. “I think you would have been very bored in London if trouble had not managed to find you. I hope you will be able to bear the monotony in Hampshire.”
There were two vehicles waiting in front of the inn for them: the Carroways’ elegant traveling chaise as well as a smaller coach for their personal servants and the luggage. Lily’s maid, Anna, was just climbing into the second coach when they stepped outside, Lily tugging her hat forward so she wouldn’t have to squint against the bright cloudiness of the sky.
“I am looking forward to some monotony,” Lily admitted as they entered the coaching yard. “Two whole months of it, in fact, if you include my visit to Surrey. Monotony sounds lovely.”
Jack shook his head, smiling as he held out a hand to help her into the chaise. “I shall believe that when I see it.”
* * *
The rolling hills and water meadows of Hampshire were beautiful in spite of the dreary autumn day, but after more than two hours in the carriage, even Ofelia’s cheerful appreciation was wearing thin. From exclaiming over the picturesque scenery, she turned to quizzing Lily about her aunt and aunt’s companion, whom she and Ned would meet for the first time during their short visit before they left for their own property.
“And how long have Miss Pierce and Miss Clarke lived at the cottage?” Ofelia asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“It was the year after my grandmother’s death, so that would be …” Lily frowned in thought, swaying back and forth with the motion of the carriage. “Twelve years ago, I think? My aunt and Miss Clarke were at school together as girls. When neither of them had married after a few years, they began to talk of setting up their own household together, rather than remaining with their families in their spinsterhood.” Lily’s eyebrows rose. “You can imagine my aunt did not relish the thought of remaining my father’s dependent after the death of my grandfather.”
“And Miss Clarke?”
“She was one of seven children in her home, and the younger boys had already been packed off to various occupations to make their own way in the world. I think perhaps one of her brothers became a banker and another a curate? In any case, she had a
Lily smiled, her gaze wandering back to the window as she contemplated the independent existence that her aunt and Susan Clarke had created for themselves. Their housekeeping was modest by worldly standards, though sufficient for them to keep a manservant and a one-horse gig for excursions around the parish. And they were happy—something she might not have aspired to herself, growing up under her father’s critical, cheerless care had she not had their example to strive for.
“And are you your aunt’s heir, or is Miss Clarke?” Ofelia asked with cheerful bluntness. Raised as the only child of a practical, wealthy, doting father in the West Indies, she had been nearly a partner to him in his export business since she was a child. As a result, she had a better head for business and finance than nearly anyone Lily had met, as well as a sunny disregard for the polite bounds of such conversations, at least among her intimates.
Lily laughed. “Both. The cottage comes to me, with the provision in her will that Miss Clarke is to be allowed to reside there as long as she wishes. But her income passes to Miss Clarke before coming to me—I believe they have both arranged things similarly so that the other might continue to live independently.”
“An equitable arrangement,” Ofelia said, satisfied, as she dropped back against the seat cushions and covered a yawn. “I am eager to meet them. Is your aunt much like you?”
“A great deal in looks,” said Lily, growing a little thoughtful as she added wryly, “but I think she has an easier manner. You will like her very much. And I have been writing to her of you all year, so she and Miss Clarke are both glad of the chance to meet you. And you, of course, Sir Edward,” she added, nodding to the young baronet, who had been reading contentedly while the two friends talked.
At the sound of his name, he glanced up, the sly smile on his face making Lily think that he had not been quite as absorbed in his book as he seemed. “Looking forward to meeting your aunt, of course, Mrs. Adler. But I’ve not heard you mention the other charm Hampshire has this year.”
Lily, caught off guard by this sudden attack, felt herself growing hot with embarrassment and hoped that the sensation wouldn’t translate to a blush. “I … what could you mean?”
Ned Carroway’s smile grew to a grin, which lit up his still boyish face. “Oh come now, ma’am. Surely you aren’t going to pretend to be unaware that Mr. Matthew Spencer lives not far from your aunt? He must have mentioned it, as much time as the two of you have spent in each other’s company these past months.”
Lily bit the inside of her cheek, pretending to be unflustered by his teasing. “He lives nearly three miles on the other side of the village from Longwood Cottage,” she said firmly. “That is hardly in the same neighborhood.”
“So you do not expect to see him?” Ofelia asked. There was no telling from her expression what she thought of the matter one way or another.
Lily glanced down at her hands, unable to keep a small smile from rising to her lips. “I expect he will be much occupied with his children, now he has returned home,” she said quietly. “But yes, I am hopeful of seeing him. He said he did not think the distance so great an obstacle.”
“For a fellow who loves to ride as he does?” Ned grinned. “Should expect him to think nothing of the distance. Not even an hour on a good horse.” He turned to his wife, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Splendid idea, isn’t it, my love, that Mr. Spencer should visit Longwood Cottage while Mrs. Adler is there?”
Ofelia hesitated, regarding her friend more seriously than Lily had expected such a teasing question to occasion. “He seems a genuinely nice man, which is not something one can say of every person so handsome and charming,” Ofelia said at last. “I shall be happy to see him again if Mrs. Adler is.” Apparently deciding to change the subject, she asked, her voice light and easy once more, “Why is it that your father so disapproves of your aunt?”
Lily was grateful for the diversion; she enjoyed Matthew Spencer’s company, and he seemed to enjoy hers. But she did not like knowing that her friends were so openly speculating about the two of them. It was hardly surprising—for a well-off widow and a handsome widower to be seen in each other’s company was to invite gossip, even if their interaction had been purely friendly. But she did not know Matthew Spencer’s thoughts on the matter, and she still could not bring herself to think of remarrying.
Lily held back a sigh. Visits to her aunt were supposed to be quiet and restful. But while she had no intention of seeking out trouble—not that she ever had in London either, no matter how Jack might tease—she had a feeling that this visit would be a little more fraught than usual, at least as long as the Carroways and their watchful eyes were there as well.
Lily was distracted from answering as the carriage rounded a bend, and a familiar, cheerful stone building came into view, perched on the top of a gently sloping hill. “There,” she said, leaning forward, unable to keep the smile from her face. “That is Longwood Cottage at the top of the rise.”
CHAPTER 2
“I hope your friends will not feel too cramped in the second spare room.”
Lily smiled at Susan Clarke’s anxious hovering. “Not at all. It really is so kind of you to invite them to stay for a few days.”
Eliza, standing with Susan just inside the doorway of Lily’s room, made a dismissive noise. “It is no short distance to Somerset from here. We should have been embarrassed to send them on their way too quickly.”
“Oh, of course,” Susan agreed. But she frowned as she glanced around the room once more. “It is only that I don’t expect our rooms are of the size and comfort to which they are accustomed.”
Longwood Cottage was cheerful and pretty, well furnished, decorated with taste, and enhanced by beautiful views of the surrounding countryside. It was Lily’s favorite place to visit in the world. But it was not large, with two adjoining bedrooms and a third separate room upstairs, a fourth bedroom on the first floor, and only one downstairs parlor.
After Lily’s husband had died, she and her aunt had briefly discussed whether she ought to come live at the Cottage. But the smallness of the house had made all three women decide against the plan, worried that such close living, and during such a difficult time, would spoil the pleasure they normally felt in each other’s company.
Even now, the smallness of the house was hard to ignore. Lily normally stayed in the larger upstairs spare room, but she was currently installed in the smaller downstairs one, to give Ofelia and Ned more space. Still, there was no reason the arrangement could not be comfortable for the three or four days that the Carroways planned to break their journey.
“Truly, you have nothing to worry about,” Lily said, taking off her hat and handing it to her maid, Anna, who was busy unpacking a fresh gown and checking the temperature of the wash water that had been brought up. “Sir Edward and Lady Carroway are eager to be pleased, no matter where they find themselves. And especially here.” Lily was rarely openly affectionate, but she crossed the room to wrap an arm each around Susan and her aunt. She smiled down into Susan’s plump, pretty face, then had to look up to meet her aunt’s eyes; Lily was tall, but Eliza was even taller, a beautiful, sturdy woman, rather than willowy or delicate. “They have heard me speak about you a good deal.”
“And we were eager to meet them after all your letters this last half year,” Eliza replied, giving Lily a quick peck on the cheek before stepping away. Susan, more naturally affectionate than anyone brought up in the Pierce family could be, kept her arm around Lily’s waist and beamed while Eliza surveyed the room with a critical eye. “Do you have everything you need, dearest?”
“Is there anything else we need, Anna?” Lily asked.
“No, Mrs. Adler,” Anna said, straightening from where she had just finished laying out Lily’s things on the dressing table and bobbing a quick curtsey to the ladies of the house. “And the water is hot, if you are ready to wash.”
