Death at the Manor, page 21
“A man,” Lily clarified, trying to sound neutral about that part of the story and very deliberately not looking toward Matthew. She certainly didn’t have any room to judge Etta for her nighttime activities, and she didn’t want to encourage either of the gentlemen to make such judgments either. “So we went to speak with her …”
Together, with an occasional interruption or correction, she and Ofelia shared everything they had learned from Etta about her affair with Mr. Wright. As they spoke, the magistrate’s expression grew more and more grim. Eventually he stood, as though staying still had proved too much in the face of such information, and paced toward the room’s fireplace, resting his hands on the mantlepiece for several moments before abruptly turning and striding back toward his desk.
“I’ve no wish to assign blame without more information,” Lily concluded, feeling exhausted from the recitation. “But given what Etta shared—and given what we now know of Mr. Wright’s financial circumstances—it seems not improbable that there was some arrangement between the two of them.”
“It is damningly suggestive, I agree, madam,” Mr. Powell said gravely.
“There is still the difficulty of the locked door,” Ofelia pointed out. “We’ve not yet discovered a way to account for that.”
“And Mr. Wright, we know, spent the evening locked up after his behavior in the inn,” Lily added. “Under your own auspices, I believe, Mr. Powell.”
“That is true.” The magistrate paused by his desk, drumming his fingers against the surface in thought. “The maid, by her own admission, was the last person to speak to Mrs. Wright,” Mr. Powell said thoughtfully. “After bringing tea and tending to the fire for the evening, she returned around ten o’clock, I believe? To see if Mrs. Wright needed anything before bed. She said they always spoke through the door, but there is no proving that she was telling the truth. Perhaps she had some means of gaining entry to Mrs. Wright’s room. Perhaps Mr. Wright did not leave, as he told us, but remained there, and the two of them left together before he departed for his evening’s entertainment.”
“That does not account for how the door came to be locked again the next morning, when Miss Wright and the manservant arrived.” Matthew glanced at Lily as he spoke, and she knew he was remembering their conversation from the night before, when they had been considering Selina Wright’s guilt rather than her brother’s.
“Well, I am not sure such details matter under the circumstances,” Mr. Powell said briskly, standing.
Lily frowned, and she could see the same expression mirrored on Ofelia’s face. “With all respect, Mr. Powell, they seem quite important. A person cannot be guilty of a crime they had no way of committing.”
“And we shall discover how they committed it,” Mr. Powell said, crossing to the bellpull in the corner and giving it a sharp tug. “Whether their intent might have been to rob or to kill, I could not say. But given the result, it does not much matter. I imagine a few days locked up works wonders for loosening the tongues of criminals.”
Lily exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance with her friend; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew lean forward, the carefully neutral expression he had worn throughout the entire discussion beginning to fray with surprise.
“Mr. Powell,” he said slowly, glancing at the two women. “I think we were all hoping simply to bring new information to you. We had no intention of causing the arrest of two individuals who may not have—”
“They clearly intended something,” Mr. Powell said, no longer looking at the three of them. “You brought the information to me, Spencer, and I am grateful for that. But now my duty is to do what I see as the best course of action. Ah, there you are.” The door had just swung open, revealing a neatly attired manservant. “I will need your assistance. There are two criminals who must be locked up, and there is a chance they will not come along quietly.”
“Yes, sir,” the manservant said, looking excited by the prospect. Lily’s stomach began to turn over, uneasy with what they had set in motion. “I’ll fetch Robert to come as well, shall I?”
“Likely a good idea,” Mr. Powell agreed. “Prepare horses for you and myself. Robert will need to drive the carriage.” The manservant bowed and withdrew, and Mr. Powell began to pace around the room once more. “We’ll put Mr. Wright in the lockup here, of course,” he said, and Lily wasn’t sure whether he was still talking to them or merely thinking out loud. “But the maid does present a difficulty. We cannot lock them up together. Perhaps Miss Wright will be able to suggest somewhere on the Belleford property.”
“Sir,” Lily broke in. He looked at her in some surprise, clearly not expecting the interruption. She didn’t let that stop her, though she did try to sound as respectful as possible. “I am sure you know best what to do, of course. But I hope you will keep in mind that the maid, Etta, may not … an arrangement such as the one she had with Mr. Wright is by its nature an imbalanced one. He was her employer, after all. Whatever did or did not happen, there is every chance that it was neither her idea nor her choice.”
“He might have coerced her, you mean,” Mr. Powell said, nodding, and Lily was relieved to see that he did seem to be considering the idea carefully.
“It does happen, sir,” Ofelia put in. “She is a woman, and a servant. It is not hard to picture a wealthy, charismatic man like Mr. Wright persuading or forcing her into a course of action that she never would have chosen on her own.”
“Well, if she was party to murder, the law is the law. But”—Mr. Powell held up a hand to forestall their protests—“I will take what you have said under advisement. There is no need to be harsh with her right away. She might even be persuaded to turn against Mr. Wright and confess if she knows that she will not be held responsible for anything he forced her to do.”
As he finished speaking, there was a knock at the door, and the manservant reappeared. “All is ready, Mr. Powell,” he said briskly. Lily watched with no small amount of alarm as he handed over first the magistrate’s coat, then a set of pistols.
Ofelia was even less restrained in her reaction; she gasped audibly.
“It is simply a precaution,” Mr. Powell said with surprising gentleness as he glanced at her. “One never knows what to expect when apprehending a criminal, and it is wise to be prepared.”
“Shall I come with you?” Matthew asked, glancing at Lily. He wanted to be able to report what happened, she realized, feeling a rush of gratitude.
Mr. Powell looked a little surprised. “Are you a good shot?” he asked, glancing quickly at the spot where Matthew’s left arm ended above his elbow, then just as quickly looking back at his face, as though hoping no one would notice.
“I am decent enough,” Matthew said with a tone of quiet confidence that Lily suspected meant he was strongly understating his own abilities.
Mr. Powell clearly came to the same conclusion. After a moment of thought, he shrugged and handed over one of the pistols. “No harm in having someone else on hand. Though one hopes they will not make too big a scene.”
“Miss Wright is likely more inclined to make the scene,” Matthew pointed out.
“Too true,” Mr. Powell said, blowing out his cheeks and shaking his head. With a shrug, he held out his arm to Ofelia. “Lady Carroway, may I escort you both back to your vehicle?”
And with that, they had to be content. Lily had to watch the road as she guided the horse and gig away from Mr. Powell’s house, but Ofelia twisted around in her seat to watch the four men until they were out of sight.
“Did we make a terrible mistake, telling him what we learned?” she asked when she finally turned back.
Lily’s grip tightened on the reins, until the horse grew so fidgety that she forced herself to relax. “Let us hope not,” she murmured. “For we cannot undo it now.”
CHAPTER 18
It was a tense day for the party at Longwood Cottage.
They had arrived home after luncheon, and Lily had claimed a need to rest and retreated instantly upstairs. She hoped to conceal her conflicted feelings as best as possible, not wanting to worry her aunts in particular, and needed time to compose herself.
But Ofelia had told her husband almost as soon as they returned. When Lily came down for tea, Ned—with the best of intentions—had tried to reassure her that she had done the right thing in taking what she knew to the magistrate. After that, there was nothing to do but tell Eliza and Susan everything as well. Soon everyone’s tea things were forgotten in the horrified, impassioned discussion of what might have happened, what would become of the suspects, and which of them might really have been behind the dastardly plan.
“But we do not know that it was, in fact, either of them,” Lily put in at last. “We still have no idea how anyone could have gained entry to Mrs. Wright’s room. And without that information …” She shook her head. “If only I could see the room again. I feel certain I would uncover something. But I cannot remember it well enough.”
“Whatever Mr. Powell is planning, I hope he’ll make no drastic decisions,” Ofelia put in, nervously fidgeting with the tassel on an embroidered cushion, as though she had too much energy to keep her hands still. “At least until Mr. Page arrives from Bow Street.”
“Good man, Mr. Page,” Ned put in, laying a gentle hand atop his wife’s and giving her a reassuring smile. “Smart as a whip. He’ll know what to do.”
“Have you heard any response from him?” Ofelia asked Lily.
“None yet.” Lily said, frowning down into her now cold tea, then standing with a sigh and going to pour herself another cup. She would have liked a glass of something a little stronger, but Eliza and Susan did not keep spirits in the house. “I hope that by tomorrow we will have some word.”
“Or perhaps he will simply come,” Eliza put in, handing Lily the milk pitcher. “It would be swifter for him to ride straight from London, once he gets your letter, than to send a reply, wait for your response, and then come in person.”
“Shall we speak of something else?” Susan asked. Her tone was an attempt at lightness, but the trembling of her teacup against her saucer gave away her agitation. She set them down abruptly. “You all may be used to such discussions, but I am afraid I have had my fill of murder and the like.”
“Of course, dear,” Eliza said immediately. “They have begun plans for the church fete—did you see the notice? I do hope it will not rain as it did last year.”
The others followed her lead, talking of mundane matters and attempting to continue on with their evening. Ofelia and Ned took a walk in the garden; Lily read aloud while Susan trimmed a new bonnet, and Eliza went over the household accounts. But the long silences and unhappy faces when they were finally sitting around the supper table made it clear that no one had quite put the matter from their mind.
They were halfway through the meal when there was a knock at the door. Eliza, frowning, rose in her seat. Ned, his mouth just full of a bite of potatoes, scrambled to his feet as well. “Who could that …” Before she could finish, their visitor was shown into the dining room. “Mr. Spencer! Were we expecting you?” She glanced at Lily. “Shall I lay another place?”
“That is very kind of you, Miss Pierce, and no, there was no reason you ought to have expected me.” He bowed to the company as Addie and John hastened to set another place at the table. “Though I’d not say no to a glass of wine if you have such a thing. I came straight from Belleford, as I assumed Lady Carroway and Mrs. Adler would not enjoy being kept in suspense of what passed today.”
“Oh yes, you are too good!” Ofelia exclaimed, looking more enthusiastic about Matthew’s presence than Lily had ever yet seen. “Sit down, please, and tell us what happened.” She glanced a little nervously at Susan. “That is, Miss Clarke, if you do not object?”
Susan sighed. “Much as I dislike the subject, I will not be able to sleep tonight unless I know what happened. Please, tell us.”
“Thomas Wright was apprehended first,” Matthew said, taking the place that was set for him between Lily and Eliza. Beneath the table, Lily felt his hand slide into her lap and press briefly against her fingers before withdrawing, a reassuring touch that she had not realized she needed and suddenly found herself grateful for. “He was sitting with his sister and came along easily enough, though poor Miss Wright protested volubly.”
“Did he say anything?” Lily asked.
“He insisted on his innocence, of course, and his love for his mother. One would expect no less, regardless of the circumstances.” Matthew nodded his thanks for the glass of wine that was set before him and downed a quick gulp. “After he was taken away by Mr. Powell’s servants, I thought Miss Wright would succumb to hysterics. Small wonder, after what happened to her mother and then being told her brother might be the one responsible. We had to spend a good deal of time calming her, and that only happened after our repeated assurances that he would be well treated, and no charges were yet being brought against him.”
“And the maid, Etta?” Ofelia asked, leaning forward.
“Was she also arrested?” Lily asked. She wanted to look calmer than her friend, but her fingers were locked around her fork and knife so tightly that the knuckles were white. For some reason that she could not quite explain, she was far more nervous about what would happen to Etta than to Mr. Wright.
“We had to wait for her,” Matthew explained as a plate of dinner was set before him. “She was out on her half day, and no one was quite certain where she had gone. Mr. Powell was worried at one point that she had gotten wind of what happened and already escaped. But she returned eventually. Miss Wright gave them use of a storage shed at the back of the gardens where she could be detained.”
“She did not cause any trouble?” Eliza asked.
“None.” Matthew shook his head. “She seemed stunned by the whole matter. The only thing she asked was to be allowed to change her clothes—she was wearing her good dress and hat, I think, since it was her half day—but Mr. Powell would not allow it. She was put under lock and key immediately, with Miss Wright haranguing her at the top of her lungs the whole time.”
“So Miss Wright was willing to believe the maid is guilty?” Lily asked, setting down her silverware.
“I must admit, she seemed at least as concerned about the fact that the maid had seduced her brother as she did about her mother’s death,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “Knowing him, I have trouble believing it was not the other way around. But Miss Wright was fairly screaming, calling her a murdering Jezebel and worse. It was the loudest I have ever heard that woman speak. The entire household was in shock. I had to take the other servants aside and instruct them to make sure Etta would be brought food and whatever else she might need for the night, because I was worried Miss Wright would attempt to starve her into confessing.”
“That was very good of you,” Lily said, feeling relieved. Not many men of his station would show such concern for a servant, particularly one who stood nearly accused of murder. She smiled warmly at him but looked away quickly when she caught the curious glance Eliza was giving her. She was still not certain how things stood between her and Matthew, and with so much else to think about, the last thing she wanted to do was answer her aunt’s eager questions. “Do you know what Mr. Powell is planning?”
“I took the liberty of informing him that you had written to the man at Bow Street,” Matthew admitted, taking a bite. “What a delicious table you set, Miss Pierce, Miss Clarke. I hope that you do not object, Mrs. Adler. To be quite honest, he seemed relieved. He is not accustomed to his duties as magistrate requiring him to address anything more serious than poaching or petty thievery. I think he intends to keep them locked up until the Bow Street officer arrives.”
Lily let out a relieved breath; across the table, she saw Ofelia do the same. Both of them had been worried that Mr. Powell would be too hasty in assigning guilt. But Mr. Page would be fair in his assessment of what had happened. And as there was reason to suspect that one or the other of Mr. Wright and Etta had been somehow involved in the murder, perhaps it was no bad thing to keep them locked up for a few days, where they could neither escape the county nor consult with each other.
“I thank you for your hospitality on such short notice,” Matthew said, pushing back his chair and standing. “But as it is growing late, I should return home to my children. I hope what I was able to report has set your minds somewhat at rest?”
“As well as they can be at rest until such things are resolved,” Eliza said briskly. “Thank you, Mr. Spencer. It was good of you to stop by to share your news. Lily, perhaps you can see the gentleman to the door and make sure he has everything he needs?”
Lily half wanted to object to her aunt’s obvious manipulation, but it was so politely done that she couldn’t. And in any case, she did want a moment alone to speak with Matthew. She murmured her assent and stood.
Susan smiled. “I wish you an easy ride home and a pleasant evening, sir. And do please give my regards to Miss Spencer.”
“She will be pleased by the attention,” Matthew said, smiling back. “Mrs. Adler, shall we?” He held out his arm, and Lily let him escort her from the room.
After they had given instructions to John to see Matthew’s horse saddled once more and brought round, they stood on the step of the cottage together, a spot that was public and therefore proper but, with the closed door standing between them and the others at the dinner table, also quite private.
Matthew cleared his throat. “This was not how I envisioned today going.”
“What did you envision?” Lily asked, genuinely curious. While she had no regrets about their night together, she also had no plan or prediction for what would happen next between them. It was a new experience for her; generally, she liked to have things carefully planned out before she made a decision. And she expected Matthew was the same.
