“You are also not lacking in courage,” Thomas said, and this time Laura thought she really did see admiration in his face.
Terrified that she would blush again, she leaned over the bed to hide her face. Her eye was caught by a small red spot on the pillow. Blood, she was sure. Had Thomas seen it? Should she point it out? Was that risky? After all, he could be the murderer.
Thomas’s voice made her jump. “As I said before, people do not rise from the dead, not without a pulse or heartbeat, and there’s some blood on the sheets as well. The question is, why all the disguises?”
“To give the murderer time,” Laura replied promptly. “He, or she, had to wait until everyone was asleep to move the body, but in the meantime he had to prevent anyone from seeing who the victim really was, or even from knowing that there was a victim in the first place.”
Her stomach lurched suddenly. She was such an innocent! Maybe that was why Tom Smith was in the green room right now. Maybe he had already removed the body, had come back for the incriminating mask and to make sure no other clues to the murder were left behind. And then she had interrupted him, seen the damning clues. If that was true, she was in a very bad position. She took a few steps backward.
“Good thinking!” Thomas exclaimed. “Now all we have to do is find out how the murder was done. And who murdered her,” he added with a note of menace in his voice that startled Laura.
She glanced up at him and caught a look that terrified her with its intensity. His eyes, his mouth, all his features seemed to rearrange themselves into another personality, one that was totally focused on some perceived goal and would use any means to attain it. The look vanished in an instant, but she had seen it.
Laura began to shiver and found to her horror that once again she couldn’t stop. Tom Smith looked at her sharply. “You need a strong drink.” Grabbing her arm, he hauled her out the door and down the stairs. Laura was incapable of resisting. He poured a generous measure of brandy into a glass and thrust it at her.
“Drink,” he ordered. Laura obeyed.
Slowly, the shivering receded, and she felt her courage and her common sense return. What an idiot she was to get so worked up! If Thomas had wanted to murder her, he would have finished her off by now and stashed her wherever the first body was stashed. There had been plenty of time and opportunity. But he hadn’t.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, not looking at him lest he guess that fears about him had triggered her shivering fit.
“In my opinion,” Thomas said, watching her carefully, “you should get out of here as fast as you can. Go on with your walking trip first thing in the morning and don’t come back.”
Laura nodded, but she had no intention of obeying. The shivering had only been a momentary lapse of courage. She was all right now, and she wasn’t going to let him stop her from finding out for herself what was going on.
Thomas looked at her doubtfully but said no more. He took her arm again, more gently this time, and led her upstairs. “Get some more sleep if you can,” he urged. “That’s what I’m going to do. It’s been a very long day.”
For the first time, Laura noticed that he was fully dressed. “You haven’t gone to bed at all,” she said, surprised.
He shook his head. “No, my dearest, I have not.” he agreed, looking into her eyes and smiling faintly. He was so close that their bodies were almost touching, and Laura felt an almost forgotten surge of longing rise inside her. It must have showed in her face, for Thomas took it as an invitation. Without warning, he bent down and kissed her on the lips. Laura kissed him back, casting inhibitions to the winds.
After a long time that seemed to pass in a nanosecond, she drew away, breathless. She still didn’t know if Thomas was friend or foe, but she did know that kiss had felt wonderful. Better than anything she’d felt in years.
**********
Laura stumbled back into bed and to her surprise fell instantly asleep. A few hours later she awoke feeling undeservedly refreshed. The duvet, she decided. It was marvelously sleep-friendly. Or perhaps the second, lingering kiss she and Thomas had exchanged. She had enjoyed that one too, even if he was a villain.
There was no sound from the next room, and she hurried to use the bathroom before Thomas woke up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to encounter him again – especially while showering or brushing her teeth - until she’d had a chance to sort out her feelings about him. She liked him, mistrusted him and was frustrated by him in equal measure. Adding to the confusion, she was attracted to him – very attracted. How did one behave toward a man under those circumstances? Twenty years of marriage hadn’t prepared her for that sort of dilemma.
The sight of sun outside her window buoyed her mood and she pulled on a burnt orange shirt, a favorite color, and her walking skirt. It was loose enough to sway as she walked but sleek enough not to trip her up, and when she wore it she felt like an intrepid female explorer striding fearlessly across the African savannah.
Breakfast was laid out on the sideboard and Laura helped herself. It was pleasant not to be served, more peaceful. No one else was about, either, which helped a great deal. The Torringtons were not a relaxing family.
She had almost finished when Antonia turned up. She seemed distracted. Yesterday, she had been perfectly dressed and coiffed, with carefully applied makeup enhancing her lovely features. Today her makeup was smudged, her clothes rumpled, almost as if she had slept in them. So was her hair. If she had been married to anyone except Lord Torrington, Laura would have surmised that she had come straight from a spontaneous bout of morning lovemaking, but she found it difficult to picture the Lord and Antonia indulging in such play. More likely, he was in the stables conferring with the horses.
“I hope you slept well,” she said politely to Antonia, and received a startled look in response.
“Yes, I mean, not so well…It’s been a difficult time, and then one doesn’t…”
“Yes,” Laura answered sympathetically. “I hope some of the problems are resolving themselves. At least Lottie has reappeared.”
“Yes,” Antonia answered flatly, and excused herself to take some dishes back to the kitchen. She didn’t reappear.
Laura frowned. How odd that Antonia had looked like that, as if she just got out of bed. It seemed out of character. Where had she been?
The answer came from Lord Torrington. “Antonia’s got everything under control,” he drawled with robust heartiness as he came into the room. “Got up early, sent the groom out to see if we can get supplies, check the flooding and all that.”
So there was a groom! That was interesting news. Maybe Antonia had been with him earlier. An affair with a groom seemed to fit her a great deal better than checking out floods and supplies.
Shades of Lady Chatterley, Laura mused, except in that lady’s infamous case her lover had been a gamekeeper. She would have to find out more about the groom – and about the colorless cook who had vanished. She was missing, and so was a body, presumably female. Were they the same person?
“I’ll be off right after breakfast,” she told Lord Torrington. “Thank you for putting up with me in the midst of so many difficulties.”
“Not at all,” Lord Torrington drawled. “Happy to have you. Char – the Baroness that is, sends her regards,” he added hastily. “She is resting but asked me to thank you for your help.”
“Please thank the Baroness for her hospitality and tell her I enjoyed meeting her,” Laura replied, aware that it was true. The grande dame – and she would always think of her by that name - was a wonderfully invincible character, one she would not forget.
“I’ll go check on Thomas,” she called back as she left the room, recalling her wifely role. Lord Torrington was already deep in his paper and didn’t look up.
Laura knocked on the adjoining door but there was no answer. Could Thomas still be asleep? It seemed unlikely. She eased the door open a crack.
Her mouth dropped in astonishment. The room was in total disarray, with cl
othes flung everywhere and drawers pulled open. Even the mattress had been pulled askew, the duvet tossed carelessly on the floor.
Thomas wouldn’t leave a room like this, Laura thought, puzzled. Or would he? She didn’t really know, but it seemed unlikely. Even she would never make this much of a mess. Instead, it looked to her as if his room had been searched. Was someone else at Torrington Manor curious about Thomas and what he was doing here?
Where was he, anyway? She was surprised that he hadn’t communicated with her, since he was so insistent on being her husband.
Laura felt a prickle of anxiety. She ought to find out where Thomas was before she left, at least. Grabbing her suitcase with a vow that next time she would leave half the contents behind, she lugged it down to the hall to be picked up and taken to her next night’s lodging.
Thomas didn’t seem to be in the house, nor was anyone else about. Laura decided to look for him outside, which also gave her an excellent excuse to poke around the grounds and outbuildings before she left.
She came first to a large tool shed filled with the usual assortment of gardening implements and other outdoor paraphernalia. Nothing caught her eye except a large box of rat poison that made her shudder. She had no way of knowing if this particular victim had been fed rat poison, but she would keep the clue in mind. She went on to a barn-like structure beside the stables. This one was more interesting. Shuffling noises greeted her as she came inside, as if a heavy object were being moved or dragged across the floor. Laura stood still, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. When she could see better, she moved cautiously ahead, her boots soundless on the hay-strewn surface.
She stopped abruptly and her stomach seemed to drop to the floor. She had found Thomas. He was leaning nonchalantly against the far wall and Antonia was pressed hard against him. Her arms were clasped around him and her lips were raised to his.
CHAPTER SIX
Laura looked away, disgusted. So that was the answer to Thomas’s whereabouts. He, not the groom, was the cause of Antonia’s earlier dishabille.
How disillusioning. She had expected more of Thomas, had thought him either a real villain or a man of some character, not just a womanizer. That seemed so ordinary, so utterly lacking in imagination and style. Worse, she had fallen for it. Embarrassment flooded Laura as she remembered how enthusiastically she had returned his kisses. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she might even have jumped into bed with him. She had certainly wanted to. How amused he must have been!
Still not believing he could be quite that callous, she glanced back to verify what she had seen. Thomas was looking right at her but he didn’t react at all, didn’t even seem to see her. Was he that besotted with Antonia?
Might as well get on with what you came to do and start walking, Laura thought, surprised at the depth of her disappointment. If nothing else, she had looked forward to matching wits with Thomas while she tried to figure out what was going on at Torrington Manor. Now even that was impossible. The spice seemed to have gone out of life.
Head down, she walked rapidly out of the barn and down the driveway. She moved so fast she almost bumped into a burly man with a shovel in one hand and a rake over his shoulder. The gardener, she supposed. Laura said a polite good morning. To her surprise, he didn’t answer, nor did he move out of her way. Instead he stood still, staring at her suspiciously. Then, seeming to remember himself, he bid her a brusque good morning and let her pass.
He must have been watching her the whole time she had been looking into the barn! Laura felt an unexpected sense of violation. She hurried on, aware that his eyes were on her back, and was glad when the lane turned and she could no longer be seen.
She strode on steadily. It was a beautiful day; sunlight poured down, unexpected but welcome after yesterday’s storm, and her surroundings were gorgeous. Wildflowers decorated the fields, birds sang, and the world felt made for enjoyment.
Her euphoria was short-lived. At the bottom of the lane she came to a halt and stared unbelievingly at the water coursing across the road. It looked more than two feet deep. Lord Torrington hadn’t made up that flood story up to keep the police away.
Laura hesitated. She wasn’t going back to Torrington Manor, at least while Thomas was there; that was certain. Maybe she could find a drier place to cross, or maybe it would be easier to take off her boots and wade.
Reluctantly, Laura bent down to unlace her boots. The sound of grinding gears startled her and she stood up again. A huge truck with wheels that looked to be four feet high was lurching drunkenly through the muddy potholes she had just negotiated.
The vehicle ground to a halt, and a stocky man with a shock of white hair that belied his youthful face jumped out. “Might I help? I’m Adrian Banbury, the local veterinarian. My truck churns through flood, snow and ice, and I should be happy to offer you a lift.”
Laura smiled. What a delightful way of speaking he had! A charming country gentleman veterinarian, she decided. And at the moment, a savior.
“If you would take me across this flooded area, I would be delighted,” she accepted. “I’m Laura Morland, and I’m on a walking trip in the area.”
“Surely, you’re not walking alone!” Dr. Banbury exclaimed. “You are American, I believe, and perhaps not familiar with our paths. They can be very confusing, I fear.”
Old-fashioned as well as courtly, Laura thought wryly. “I’m quite independent,” she answered. “So far I’ve only gotten lost once.”
“I see,” he answered, and stared at her intently. Disconcerted, Laura put a hand to her face, wondering if there was mud on it.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that you remind me of someone, someone quite unexpected.”
“That’s all right,” Laura replied politely, but she was still uneasy. He was the second man to stare fixedly at her this morning. Were Englishmen that unaccustomed to seeing a woman walking alone in the countryside? Maybe it aroused some primitive urge in them, as if she were a cow in heat.
Dr. Banbury’s voice distracted her. ‘May I help you up into the cab? It’s quite a high step.” Without waiting for a reply, he grasped her elbow and assisted her up.
“Thanks.” Laura hoisted her pack in behind her. “I really appreciate a lift though the water. I was about to take off my boots and wade.”
Dr. Banbury chuckled, and she was relieved at the change in his manner. “I have done the same many times,” he admitted ruefully. “Lest you be forced into another boot removal, I shall drive you through the next flooded area down the road. It is not as deep but it still impedes foot traffic.”
“That would be a great help. I didn’t know there was another. I’ve been staying at Torrington Manor, and Lord Torrington only mentioned this one.”
“I have just come from the Manor. Lord Torrington has quite a stable and I’m often there, seeing to one equine ailment or another.”
“He seems very concerned about his horses,” Laura commented. “The one called Senator was out last evening and he wasn’t pleased.”
“Ah! I heard about that. A young woman took him out apparently. It does seem odd. She returned him in fine condition, however.”
So Cat was a good horsewoman. Laura felt a renewed prickle of curiosity. Who was she, and what was she to Thomas?
“I’ve an excellent idea,” Dr. Banbury exclaimed as the truck splashed through the second flooded area. “Why don’t you come for a quick visit? My house is just down the lane to the left, and I have a lovely little art collection I like to show visitors.”
Laura hesitated. To get to her next destination in time, she should keep walking. Still, Dr. Banbury sounded so delighted with the idea of a visit that it seemed ungracious to refuse, especially since he had rescued her. The notion of a country veterinarian with an art collection sounded intriguing, too.
“That would be lovely,” she agreed. “I’m afraid I don’t know very much about art, but I would enjoy seeing your paintings anyway.”
“Excellent. It’s a pleasant little gallery. Many of my paintings are portraits of the fairer sex. Women make such wonderful subject matter, don’t you think?
“Fully clothed, of course,” he added hastily, and Laura smiled to herself.
The house was tucked into a gentle hillside and she liked it immediately. It was constructed of the local honey-colored stone and surrounded by flower beds, and farther out, lush pastures.
Dr. Banbury paused in the outer hall to remove his muddy boots, and Laura followed his example. Putting mud on these pristine floors would have been mortifying, and she wondered who kept them so clean.
“My housekeeper insists,” Dr. Banbury explained, seeming to intuit her thought. “She scrubs the floors relentlessly and lets me know in short order if I violate the rules.”
Laura followed him down the wide hall, past a small but beautifully furnished living room and into a study full of books and leather. “You have a lovely house,” she commented appreciatively.
“Thank you. I am very fond of it and it meets my needs admirably. It’s a good house to come back to at the end of a day in stables and surgeries and such.”
Reaching into his pocket, Dr. Banbury took out a key and unlocked a door at the opposite end of the room. “In here,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him. “I keep the room locked at all times, and no one goes in except in my company. Some of the paintings are quite valuable and I do my best to protect them.”
Laura felt a small shiver of apprehension. He sounded different again. His voice was possessive now, almost reverential.
He smiled sheepishly. “I know,” he told her, returning to his normal tone. “I act as if we were going into a church or some other sacred place. I love paintings, you see, and to have them all gathered here, by my own efforts, is for me almost a spiritual experience. I dreamed of this for many years, and then I finally managed to do it, or to begin the process at least.”
Walking Into Murder Page 5
