Murder by Midnight

by Blythe Baker

  I did feel a small amount of guilt, though, when thinking about the wealthy acquaintances Sherborne would go on to victimize. Because although he swore to me his attempt to swipe my mother’s jewels was his first dalliance with thievery, I didn’t believe him for a moment. He’d done it many times before and would certainly continue to. Perhaps, I’d have the honor of catching him in the act again one day. I seemed to recall hearing that he lived in London, after all, so it was not too farfetched to imagine another meeting in our future.

  Vivian and Charles Barry left soon after.

  When the house was still reeling after the news of Hester’s apparent suicide, I’d seen Vivian pull Samuel Rigby aside for what appeared to be a serious chat. At the end of it, she lowered her head, and he patted her arm affectionately. They didn’t speak to one another again for the rest of the morning, and when the Barry siblings left, Vivian refused to look in Samuel’s direction.

  I could only guess at what they had discussed, but my instincts told me Vivian was leaving with a hint of a broken heart.

  Charles only seemed relieved. For the first time all week, he was smiling from ear to ear as they loaded their things into the car and headed for the train station.

  I wanted to leave the same day, as well. However, technically, we were still ahead of schedule. Our train didn’t depart until the morning, and my mother insisted that it would be more trouble than it was worth to change our tickets now and arrange for early transport home. So, we stayed another night.

  Samuel Rigby, too, hadn’t planned to leave until the next morning. And after ensuring his stay would not be a burden to the still mourning family, he decided to stay another night, as well. Though, rather than entertain everyone with stories and tales, he chose to retire early and read a book in his room.

  Based on how quiet the castle was after dinner, it seemed everyone was in need of alone time.

  Lord and Lady Drummond went up to their rooms, Gordon set himself up with a book and a cup of tea in the library, and my mother pulled out her stationery to write a letter each to Catherine and Rose, explaining the events of the week.

  “You reminded me a bit of Rose this week,” my mother said in the midst of writing her letter.

  “Really?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Continue in this way and Achilles and Rose may persuade you to join their agency as another private detective.”

  “Do you really think so?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes and then smiled. “No. Because you aren’t going to run away to San Francisco and leave your mother behind, are you?”

  I had no idea of my plans or where I would be headed, but simply to comfort my mother, I leaned over and hugged her arm. “Of course not, Mama.”

  She smiled contentedly and went back to writing her letter while I dozed on the sofa, allowing the exhaustion to overtake me for the first time all week.

  When my mother finished writing, she tapped me on the shoulder. “We should go say goodbye to the Drummonds.”

  I groaned, lifting my head. “Won’t we see them in the morning?”

  “Yes, but it will be early,” she said. “We should say a proper goodbye now.”

  I tried to argue, but only weakly. My mother had an iron will when it came to these things, and I knew I would not persuade her. So I found myself mere minutes later knocking on Lady Drummond’s door.

  Unlike the last time I’d been in that room, the lights were on this time and the curtains were opened, allowing the last rays of sunlight to wash across the stone floor. Lady Drummond was sitting up in bed, a tray of food across her lap. Her husband was seated in a chair beside the bed.

  “Forgive us for missing dinner,” Lady Drummond said. “We weren’t quite feeling up to it.”

  “I don’t think any of us were. You didn’t miss much in the way of conversation,” my mother said.

  We spoke briefly of what the couple planned to do once all of their guests were finally gone.

  “Mourn, I suppose, and make funeral arrangements,” Lady Drummond said. “I know we have been grieving for several days now, but it will be different when the house is empty and it is just the three of us rather than the four of us.”

  “It will be hard,” my mother said, laying a hand over her friend’s. “But you will all get through it.”

  “We have to,” Lord Drummond said with a frown.

  “And if it is not cruel of me to say so, we have a fine example for how to survive something of this nature and come out of it strong, thanks to the Beckinghams.” Lady Drummond smiled at my mother and then at me, her eyes going glassy with tears. “I did not know you then, but I read about your Edward in the paper, and I thought about his poor family all the time.”

  At that, my mother released a single sob and dabbed at her eyes. “You may have been the only one. Many were not kind to us, after the damage to our family’s reputation.”

  My cheeks warmed at the thought. I still had not quite come to terms with my brother having been a murderer, it seemed.

  Lady Drummond shook her head. “A mother cannot help but love her children. Even if they do things we do not like or condone, they are still our children. And when I read that Edward had been ordered killed in prison by a man on the outside, all I could do was think of his family.”

  “What?”

  Everyone stopped talking and turned to me. I stared back at them, forehead wrinkled.

  “Edward was ordered to be killed?” I asked.

  Lady Drummond’s eyes widened as she looked from me to my mother and back again. “I’m so sorry. Is that just a rumor? Have I revealed myself as a silly gossip?”

  “No, no,” my mother assured her, patting her friend’s hand and then turning to me. “I suppose we may have shielded Alice from some of the finer points of Edward’s death. She was younger then, and she had already been through so much.”

  “Why did they want him dead?” I asked.

  I remembered hearing that Edward had been killed. When the information was told to me, he had died in a prison fight. Someone might have targeted him, but it was not a planned killing. Just a random brawl.

  “We don’t know,” my mother said. “And it may just be a rumor, but there were whispers amongst the police at the time that Edward knew too much. He had information about a high-level criminal, and that criminal did not want it getting out. So, he was silenced.”

  I let the information sink in, trying to rework my memories around it.

  “Does Catherine know?” I asked.

  My mother shrugged. “We didn’t talk about it, Alice. Perhaps, we should have, but it was difficult. None of us wanted to discuss anything that wasn’t necessary. So, beyond the simple fact that he had been killed and we needed to plan a funeral, we left the subject alone. If Catherine read anything in the newspapers, she didn’t mention it to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lady Drummond said, laying a hand over her face. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories. I am just not thinking clearly right now.”

  “Please don’t worry,” I told her. “I’m glad to know this information. I wish I’d known it from the start.”

  My mother lowered her head, looking slightly embarrassed, but it had not been my intention to shame her. I smiled, hoping she would realize that.

  “You have enough to worry about without worrying that you’ve somehow hurt my feelings,” I said. “Believe me, I will be fine.”

  “You proved that this week,” Lord Drummond said. “Without your bravery, we might not have discovered who the killer was. We might have carried on letting her work in our home and live under our roof.”

  The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and based on the expression on Lady Drummond’s face, it was clearly a distasteful thought to her, as well.

  “It may have been less bravery and more stupidity,” I said, stealing a line from Gordon. “Though, it worked out well for me.”

  “And let it be the only time,” my mother warned, eyebrows raised.

/>   Lady Drummond laughed, and the sound seemed to even surprise her. She pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve done that since…”

  My mother’s lower lip trembled as she laid a hand on Lady Drummond’s shoulder. “And it won’t be the last.”

  19

  The room was dark and damp, and the smell of it tickled my nose. Each breath was swampy and thick, and I felt like I was suffocating.

  I didn’t know where I was, and when I tried to open my mouth to say something, no sound came out.

  Then, I tried to lift my arms to bang on the wall, but they wouldn’t move. Neither would my feet. I was frozen.

  Suddenly, the wall in front of me molded and expanded, and there was a door. I strained to walk towards it, trying to get out, but before I could it opened.

  And in walked Edward.

  My heart stopped.

  He looked just like he did the last time I saw him—dark hair, blue eyes, square chin—except instead of his fine clothes, he was in a gray prison jumpsuit. His hands were shackled together with a loose chain between them, and his head was down. He didn’t see me.

  I tried to yell at him, tried to capture his attention, but my body was immobile. All I could do was watch as he walked.

  The room seemed to lengthen and expand in every direction because Edward was moving, but he wasn’t getting any closer to me. I prayed for him to look up and see me, but he kept his head down.

  Then, a figure appeared behind him.

  Not even a figure. Just a shadow. A man made of darkness who moved behind him and raised his arm.

  I knew what was going to happen before it did, and I tried to cry out.

  The man brought his arm down, and Edward fell. As he hit the ground, my body suddenly became unstuck, and I dove forward to catch him.

  I woke up just as I hit the prison floor, jolting up in bed, my mouth open in a silent scream. There was sweat across my forehead and my palms, and I was shaking all over.

  It took me a few minutes to slow my racing heartbeat. Then I lay still, gathering my thoughts.

  I had told my mother and the Drummonds that the new information about Edward’s death hadn’t disturbed me, but ever since learning the news, it was all I could think about. I had been replaying every conversation from that period of time, every snippet of discussion I’d managed to overhear while standing outside doors and looking disinterested as others spoke.

  One thing came back to me again and again: Rose had mentioned a man called the Chess Master once.

  I couldn’t remember anything about the conversation, but I remembered the name and the look on her face when she’d said it. There was fear there. Fear associated with this unknown man, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had something to do with Edward’s murder.

  Rose had never liked to talk about Edward much. I could understand why. She was the one who discovered he was the murderer of a mutual acquaintance, and he’d tried to kill her, too, in the end. It was an uncomfortable subject for anyone.

  However, now I had to wonder whether Rose hadn’t stayed quiet about Edward’s death for her own safety. Or to protect someone else. The Chess Master, perhaps?

  I rolled out of bed and paced the floors. My nap in the sitting room had left me unable to sleep through the rest of the night, and I couldn’t wait until dawn. Until we would board the train and get back to London. To home.

  Once there, I was going to answer all of the questions I’d been too young to ask when Edward died.

  I would write to Rose, of course. Now that I was older she might be more willing to tell me the truth. Any scrap of information I could gather from her would be useful. However, she was so far away. Though I had vowed during this investigation to work alone, it would be nice to have someone closer to home who could assist me next time.

  Sherborne Sharp appeared in my mind and wouldn’t leave.

  As much as I abhorred his particular skill set, it could really come in handy if there arose a need for sneaking and stealing. Plus, he was one of the few people I had information on that I could use for blackmail. My knowledge of his penchant for snatching valuables from the wealthy might be enough to encourage him to help me when and if I ever needed it.

  So, I would look him up as soon as we returned to London. With a name like Sherborne Sharp, he couldn’t be too difficult to find…

  When I next looked out my window, the sky was purple and dark blue, beginning to color with the early morning light. I couldn’t resist a final walk on the grounds. So, I threw on my dressing gown, slipped into a pair of shoes, and walked through the still sleeping house to the front doors.

  I followed the front path for a few paces before veering away and cutting across the grass. Morning dew gathered on my shoes and splattered against my ankles, but I kept walking until I reached the hill between the castle and the stables. Once there, I turned in a circle, admiring the view from up high.

  The grass rolled out in soft hills like the waves of the ocean, and orange and yellow streaked across the sky like scratches in the clouds. The countryside really was beautiful.

  Though, when I turned towards the castle and the trees beyond, an eerie feeling came over me.

  An early morning fog had moved in, covering the ground and stretching up the sides of the stone walls like climbing ivy, but I knew that wasn’t what had unsettled me.

  I pulled my dressing gown tighter around my shoulders and began the trek back to the castle to pack. My mother and I would be leaving soon, heading to the train station before breakfast even. And while I was excited, a finger of dread scratched down my neck at the thought of going home.

  The ghosts of Druiminn Castle that had stolen my sleep for the last week had proven to be nothing but flesh and blood. There were no more dangers left lurking in the castle or the grounds to harm me.

  No, what haunted me now were the unsettled ghosts of my own family’s past and the bearing they would have on my future.

  Continue following the mysterious adventures of Alice Beckingham in

  “Murder in the Evening.”

  About the Author

  Blythe Baker is the lead writer behind several popular historical and paranormal mystery series. When Blythe isn't buried under clues, suspects, and motives, she's acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets. She enjoys walking her dog, lounging in her backyard hammock, and fiddling with graphic design. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV.

  To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com