A Study in Murder

by Callie Hutton

  “What?” Amy turned, but being of short stature, she couldn’t see beyond the gold buttons on the jackets of the two men in front of her.

  “Mr. Harris. He just entered the room.”

  “How very interesting.” Amy moved sideways until she got a clear view of the door. “Is that him? With the dark-burgundy jacket and gold ascot?”

  “Yes.” William darted a glance toward Amy.

  “What?”

  “He just spotted me and is coming this way.”

  Within minutes, William broke into a smile and extended his hand. “Mr. Harris, good to see you.”

  The nephew slapped William on the back and turned to Amy. “And who is this lovely creature?”

  “Lady Amy Lovell, may I present to you Mr. Francis Harris.”

  “Indeed? Lady Amy? I see now why my uncle was willing to surrender his bachelorhood.” He took Amy’s extended hand and kissed it. She quelled the urge to wipe it on her gown.

  “A pleasure, Mr. Harris.” Once again apologizing to God for the little white lie, she eased her hand behind her and rubbed the back of it on the tablecloth covering the area holding the drinks and other refreshments.

  There was indeed something “off” about Mr. St. Vincent’s nephew. It was not in his looks, which were quite pleasant. Where Mr. St. Vincent had dark hair and brown eyes, Mr. Harris’s hair was more of a light brown, with hazel eyes. He stood about equal in height with William and filled out his clothing quite well.

  Something in his eyes troubled her, though. He reminded her of someone who was keeping a secret from everyone else and thought it to be quite a joke. “Are you staying long in Bath, Mr. Harris?”

  “Please, call me Francis. I always think of my father as Mr. Harris.”

  She had no intention of calling him Francis or anything else, since she did not plan to spend much time with the man. To her dismay, the musicians started up another waltz and Harris turned to her. “May I have the honor of this dance, Lady Amy?”

  Sometimes she wished good manners had not been so instilled into her by her governesses. She would have loved more than anything to refuse and resume her walk with William. But then again, perhaps as a woman she could gain information from him that William had been unable to unearth. “Yes, of course, Mr. Harris.”

  He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. ’Twas not as crowded as it had been earlier when she and William had danced, so there was more room to move around. Mr. Harris proved to be quite an accomplished dancer, and despite her initial reluctance to accept his request for a dance, she found herself relaxing.

  “I find I am very much in your debt, Lady Amy.” His smile did not wipe away the uneasiness she felt at his comment and the hairs that rose at the back of her neck.

  “And why is that, Mr. Harris?” she asked with a suddenly dry mouth.

  “Why, for my uncle, of course.” He moved them in a graceful turn and studied her for a moment. “I have you to thank for killing him.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Amy came to an abrupt halt and stared at Mr. Harris. The couple to their rear crashed into them, the man mumbling something insulting as they skirted around. The woman turned and glared at them.

  “Although I find it in extremely bad taste, I assume you are attempting some sort of a joke?”

  The horrid man continued to grin as he nudged her to continue with the dance. “Not at all. Uncle was found dead in your library with no one else about. You had broken the engagement a few days before. What else am I to assume? So, I thank you. As soon as the will is read, I will be a wealthy man.”

  Had it not been the height of rudeness, Amy would have kneed Mr. Harris right where it would hurt the most. In fact, her body shook with the need to wreak some sort of violence upon the man. She was so flabbergasted she couldn’t even speak. It was as if her mind was frozen while her body continued to move with the music.

  “I should like to take you for a ride sometime. Again, I must remark on how easily Uncle had fallen under your spell after swearing for years he would never marry. A beautiful woman will win every time.” He lowered his voice. “And let’s face facts, Lady Amy. If we are to enjoy each other’s company, it must be soon, since the police will probably arrest you shortly.” Mr. Harris’s smirk was all the motivation she needed. Seething with anger, she shook her head and pushed at his chest so he was forced to release her.

  “What is wrong?” The cur had the nerve to look surprised.

  She could hold it in no longer. She drew her arm back and slammed her fist into his face. Not the delicate slap or light tap to which most women would resort. Amy put everything into that punch, to the point that her arm ached.

  Mr. Harris reared back, stumbled, and landed on his arse. Had she her newly acquired Kodak at hand, she would have taken a picture of the stunned expression on his face to enjoy for the rest of her days.

  All the couples in the area stopped and stared at her with horror and Harris with a puzzled expression. Her breath was coming so hard and so fast, she was afraid she would pass out again. Black dots continued to swim in front of her eyes, and a loud buzzing commenced in her ears.

  A warm, secure arm wrapped around her waist. “Time to leave, my dear.” William walked her forward, even though she swore her legs wouldn’t move. They made their way through the now silent room, the guests parting like the Red Sea, to the exit, where William grabbed their coats from the man at the door.

  “Aunt Margaret!” Amy finally recovered herself enough to know they had left her aunt behind.

  “Right here, dear.” Aunt Margaret’s comforting voice and strong arm wrapped around her shoulders as William led them both from the building.

  He snapped open his large umbrella and covered them all while they waited in silence for his carriage to be brought around. Thankfully, the presence of William and Aunt Margaret had steadied her, and she no longer felt as though she would faint. But the anger soon returned in full force, and she had to fight the need to return to the Assembly Rooms and use her knee to leave an even stronger message with Mr. Harris.

  Strands of music reached their ears, so the dance had continued. William helped her and Aunt Margaret into the carriage and climbed in after them.

  Amy had begun to shake, and William pulled a woolen blanket from under his seat and handed it to Aunt Margaret, who covered her with it. She felt as though she would never be truly warm again.

  I have you to thank for killing him.

  “Oh, that horrid, horrid man! He is despicable, contemptible, odious, repugnant—” She turned to Aunt Margaret. “I cannot think of enough wretched words to describe him.”

  “Dear, I think you need to calm yourself. Then tell us whatever it was he said that set you off into such a rage.”

  Amy drew in a deep breath. “I have never struck anyone in my life.” She rubbed her knuckles, which reminded her of how hard she had hit the man. “I am a lady.” She laid her head on the soft leather squab and closed her eyes. “And now I am ruined.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon Amy left her room, having been summoned by Papa, who had arrived from London. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep the night before. On the ride home from the Assembly Rooms, she’d told Aunt Margaret and William what Harris had said. It had taken all of Amy and her aunt’s persuasive skills to keep William from returning to the Assembly and adding his own form of displeasure to Mr. Harris’s body.

  A hot bath and one of Cook’s tisanes had not relaxed her enough to sleep. She’d tossed and turned and sent word to Aunt at the crack of dawn that she would miss church services. Perhaps it was a coward’s way, but she could not face those at church who had witnessed her fall from grace the night before.

  William had said when he left them off after the dance that he would call that afternoon so they could continue their discussion. That was the summons she had been waiting for, and Amy was quite surprised when Lacey said it was Papa awaiting her.

  “Good afternoon, Papa.” Amy w
alked into her father’s office next to his bedchamber, where he sat behind his desk. She bent and kissed his cheek. “I assume all is well?”

  “As well as it could be with my daughter under suspicion of murder.” He tempered his words with a warm smile. “How are you doing, my dear?”

  “Fine.” No point in upsetting Papa with all the information she and William had gained over the past several days or informing him of the nasty Mr. Harris and the right hook she’d delivered to his chin. Fathers tended to dislike knowing their gently reared daughters could hold their own in the boxing ring.

  She rounded the large, highly polished cherrywood desk that had been in Papa’s office ever since she could remember and took a seat across from him.

  “I have come to Bath to discuss a few things with you.” Papa leaned back in his chair and tapped the armrest with his fingertip. “Please rest assured that I have not abandoned you. All of this could not have happened at a worse time.”

  “So you’ve said,” Amy mumbled.

  He scowled at her. “However, I’ve been corresponding with the police, and it appears they are at an impasse. What I concluded from their last missive is they are no closer to solving St. Vincent’s murder than they were the night it happened.”

  Amy jumped up, too unsettled to sit. “That is because they are not looking at anyone else except me. They are spending all their time digging for proof that I am the guilty party.”

  “Sit down, daughter. I agree, which is why I have engaged a private investigator to delve into the matter. Sir Roger Holstein will be contacting you shortly to go over a few items.”

  Amy’s eyes widened in horror. Things were going along nicely with her and William conducting their own investigation, since they never stumbled over the detectives, who were searching in the wrong place. If they had an investigator following their footsteps, he would just get in their way.

  “Papa, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  His brows rose. “And why is that? To have someone on your side, as it were, is a good thing. He will go places the police have refused to go and find a few people who had a reason to kill Mr. St. Vincent.”

  Botheration and blast it! Things had been running rather smoothly, and now another person would arrive to stir the pot. It was bad enough with Aunt Margaret questioning her every move without having some hired nodcock getting in their way. Amy cleared her throat. “Um, perhaps with my background in murders, I can do a bit to help find the true killer.”

  Papa hopped up and slammed his hand on the desk, causing Amy to jump a few inches in the chair. “Absolutely not! It is too dangerous for you to be snooping around. Whoever killed your fiancé—”

  “Ex-fiancé.”

  “—will be quite comfortable as long as the police are only considering you. It would become outright dangerous for you to be involved.” He sat back down and straightened his jacket. “I will hear no more about you entering this foray. And remember, young lady, as much as it distresses me, you are an author of mysteries, and that is a far cry from actually solving a real crime.” He glowered at her. “And it is in your best interests to put that all aside anyway and concentrate instead on getting a husband!” His voice rose on the last four words.

  Well, then.

  A slight tinge of red covered Papa’s cheeks. “I concede that perhaps Mr. St. Vincent was not the best candidate for a husband, and I regret my part in encouraging you to accept his offer.”

  Encouraging? He had practically placed his foot on her back to push her in that direction, but one didn’t point out such things to one’s father.

  He continued. “But that doesn’t mean we should abandon the idea altogether. What about young Wethington, who always seems to be hanging about when I arrive?”

  She stared at him aghast. “Papa, please. Lord Wethington and I are friends. We belong to the same book club and enjoy similar activities. Nothing more than that.”

  Her father pointed his finger at her. “A good reason to consider matrimony. Many successful marriages have begun with less than that.”

  Attempting to dispute his comments about a husband would be useless. He never listened during those arguments anyway. If he didn’t want to hear any more about her investigation, that was fine, but that didn’t mean she would stop what she was doing. She and William already had three people on their suspect list, as well as information on St. Vincent’s financial condition that William had yet to share with her.

  Perhaps she was not a professional investigator, but it appeared she was doing a much better job than the police.

  Papa shifted in his chair and attempted to look remorseful for his outburst. “If you have been poking around, you will turn over whatever information you possess to Sir Holstein when he visits with you.”

  When she just stared at him, he added, “I mean it, Amy.”

  Since he hadn’t asked for her word to hand over her information, it was best to nod to appease him before he did. Although women were not considered as honorable as men, she never gave her word and went back on it. Before Papa could ask, she jumped up. “Is that all, Papa? I am expecting Lord Wethington shortly. We are going for a stroll through Royal Victoria Park.”

  Papa’s face lit up. “Indeed? You see, I was correct about the lad, and I’m pleased to hear that. Lord Wethington is a fine man and would make an excellent husband.”

  Amy groaned. “Papa! Again, we are just friends. I’ve told you before I have no desire or need for a husband.”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. Every woman needs a husband.”

  “Aunt Margaret?”

  Papa scowled. “Do not remind me of my stubborn sister. If I had my way, she would have been married years ago, with several children taking up her time and attention.”

  Glad to have his scrutiny diverted from her and in Aunt Margaret’s direction, Amy took the opportunity to escape. “Perhaps that is so.” She began to back away toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I must prepare for his lordship’s arrival.” As she reached for the door latch, she stopped as a horrible thought crossed her mind. “Um, Papa. Are you staying long?”

  “No. I shall be off first thing in the morning. I am extremely unhappy about leaving you to your own devices with a killer about the place. However, I have too many matters in London that cannot wait on my attendance.”

  Giddy with relief, Amy had turned to leave the room when Papa said, “However, as soon as I can free up your brother’s time, he will arrive to look after you.”

  Her stomach sank at those words as she hurried up the stairs to fetch her bonnet and gloves. Having her brother about was almost as bad as Papa looking over her shoulder. She pushed that thought aside as she noticed the sun shining brightly. A great day for a stroll and a discussion of murder.

  She no sooner had herself ready for the day than she heard the sound of carriage wheels outside the house. A quick peek out her bedroom window, which faced the street, confirmed it was William, and she hurried downstairs before Papa could accost him and begin an interrogation. She might be able to slip a lie past Papa, but she doubted William would try.

  William had only placed one foot in the entranceway when she grabbed his arm. “So nice to see you, my lord. It’s lovely outside, is it not?” She shoved him through the door and practically dragged him down the steps.

  Once they reached his carriage, he pulled his arm back. “Whatever is the matter with you, Amy?” He pulled on the cuffs of his jacket and opened the door to the carriage.

  “Nothing. I’m just anxious for us to share our news.”

  He settled in the seat across from her and smirked. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the Winchester carriage I caught a glimpse of when I rode up to your house, does it?”

  She sighed. “Yes. Papa sent word to have the carriage dispatched to the rail station to meet him. He arrived to see how I was bearing up with the murder hanging over my head. But worse than trying to convince Papa I am doing well and not attemp
ting to solve the mystery myself—”

  William snorted.

  “—he has arranged for a private investigator to join the search! That is terrible.”

  “Why? Maybe it would be better to let the bloke take over so you can remain out of it and safe.”

  Amy drew herself up and glared at him. “I will not remove myself from the search. First of all, we have put a lot of time and effort into this. Second, this man will be starting at the beginning and we are so far ahead of him. Third, this is my neck headed toward the noose if we don’t undercover the culprit.” She wrapped her arms around her body and shuddered. “Frankly, after Mr. Harris being so sure I murdered his uncle, I’m afraid the police will arrive at any time and haul me off to prison.”

  “Mr. Harris is an idiot,” William snapped. “Please put that blackguard from your mind. My theory is he does not think you murdered Mr. St. Vincent at all. A reminder: he is on our list of suspects. If anything, I believe he attempted to trick you into revealing how much you knew. He attempted to shock you, and it worked.”

  “Dreadful man.”

  “Agreed.” The carriage turned from Royal Avenue onto Marlborough Lane. William knocked on the ceiling to alert the driver to stop. “This is a good spot to walk. I will have my man return for us in about an hour.”

  Amy gathered her things and took William’s hand after he stepped out of the carriage. He spoke with the driver, and once the man was on his way, William took her arm in his and they began their walk.

  It was truly a pleasant day. The newly awakened spring flowers and rare bright sunlight raised her spirits considerably. She took in a deep breath and smiled, her confidence rising. They would solve this and go back to their normal lives.

  “I believe you were going to tell me about Miss Hemphill.” William directed them toward a pathway on the left.

  “Yes. A most interesting and very strange thing occurred. I attended Lady Ambrose’s sewing circle Tuesday last, since I had learned that Miss Hemphill was a member of the group, and I had hoped to speak with her.”