A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder

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A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder Page 9

by Dianne Freeman


  His gaze dropped to his place setting, and he appeared surprised to find his soup gone. He set down his spoon and returned his attention to me. “I don’t think it wise for Mr. Kendrick, Leo, and me to be away from the business at the same time. Who’s minding the shop, so to speak?”

  “If a man can’t take time away from his employment for his own wedding, when can he?”

  “Leo may take all the time he wishes, but when all three of us are gone for five days, or six days, all manner of ill can happen to the business. They shouldn’t have changed their wedding plans. I hope Kendrick doesn’t plan to make a habit of this once he’s married.”

  “Changing his plans?”

  “Neglecting his work.”

  While I wasn’t pleased with his criticism of Leo, these were the first full sentences I’d heard from Durant. He certainly had strong feelings about his employment. A footman leaned in between us with a dish of lobster curry. I took a serving and waited patiently while Durant did the same. When the footman moved down the table, I asked him about it.

  “The business world is fascinating, Lady Harleigh, simply fascinating. And what’s more, I find it rewarding to do something worthwhile with my life.” He grinned and released a quiet laugh. “Turns out, I like being useful, much to my father’s dismay. Father-in-law’s, too. He wanted a gentleman for his daughter.”

  “Surely he knew you would not inherit for some time.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Not a day goes by that he fails to ask how my father does.”

  This was so close to the joke Anne and I shared this morning that I nearly choked on a bit of lobster.

  His lips spread into a smile, twisted with bitterness. “Every day I tell him my father does quite well, and I hope he will continue to do so for the next forty years or more.” He shook his head. “Don’t wish to be the country gentleman. I enjoy the business world, and what’s more, I’m good at it. I find it irksome my father-in-law can’t appreciate that and anticipates the day I inherit and leave his employ.”

  It did seem a shame for him to be ousted from the business in such a way. “I’m sure Mr. Kendrick appreciates your talents and dedication.”

  “Not so sure. If hard work and innovation don’t win him over, I may be forced to resort to more extreme measures.” He pushed the curry into his rice, his lips turning down. “Won’t help matters when he learns I’m spending nearly a week at a shooting party.”

  “And a wedding. Don’t forget the wedding.”

  “Of course not. Still seems foolish to me to upend all their plans.”

  “They simply decided they didn’t want a large society affair. Since Mr. Hazelton had invited us to join his party, it was an opportunity they couldn’t resist.”

  He compressed his lips.

  “You don’t suppose Mr. and Mrs. Kendrick will mind, do you?”

  His expression changed instantly to astonishment as if he couldn’t believe I needed to ask the question. “The Kendricks mind nothing Leo does. Darling of the family, you know. He can do no wrong.”

  “Come now, Mr. Durant. You are the eldest son in your family. Tell me your father treats you any differently than Mr. Kendrick treats Leo. I’m certain you are the apple of his eye.”

  Durant took a sip from his wineglass and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. With the exception of my career, I suspect that’s true. Just thought the business world would be different.”

  I tipped my head to the side. “Leo is still the heir, even if it is to a business rather than a title.”

  “He most certainly is.” This time his smile took the form of a grimace.

  A footman leaned in with a tray of vegetables, and I served myself. Durant had turned to speak to his sister-in-law, Clara, and as the footman moved down the table, I found myself back in conversation with George.

  “Have you heard anything from Dr. Woodrow yet?” I asked.

  “Not yet. Country doctors have busy schedules. He’ll send along his findings as soon as he has the time.”

  “Yes, I suppose his hands are full at the moment, and we have provided him with two additional patients.”

  George raised his brows, and I grimaced at my choice of words. “I suppose that is not the correct word to describe Michael, is it? Poor man. As for Mr. Gibbs, I heard he is somewhat less than a congenial patient for his sister.”

  “Gibbs is less than congenial at the best of times, I doubt his injury has made him any more so, but his sister must have been aware of that before she volunteered to nurse him.” He gave me a quizzical glance. “Did you pay him a visit?”

  I shook my head. “Lily and I stopped by the church and met the vicar’s wife. She had visited Gibbs earlier and took along some provisions for his sister. She says he is still claiming he was knocked from his horse.”

  “Stubborn man. More likely he just needs spectacles.”

  “Mrs. Carruthers suggested he’s grown unused to riding.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “That’s also possible. Are you leading to something?”

  “It’s likely nothing, but when I went riding this morning with Rose and Anne, we rode past the lane where he fell, or was knocked off.” I made a circular motion with my fork. “Whatever happened. I found a length of what looks like braided fishing line tangled in some branches. It seemed out of place.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  What was I suggesting? “I’m not certain. Mr. Gibbs insists something knocked him off the horse. If the line were stretched across the lane from one tree to another, it would be difficult to see it if one were in motion. The braided line looked quite sturdy. It might easily have swept a rider from his horse, or at least startle him enough to lose his balance and fall.”

  He lowered his fork and stared. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I don’t know that anyone would, but those trees are well trimmed to keep the lane clear. Where would the line have come from?”

  His expression told me he was about to list all the possibilities. “The path is well used. Anyone could have dropped it there.”

  Not a list then. “But the way it curled about the tree in a tangle bothered me. As if it had been stretched taut then snapped.”

  “Was it long enough to stretch across the lane?”

  “No, it appears as though it were cut. Or it broke when Gibbs barreled into it. I should have checked the other side of the lane.”

  He gave me a curious look. His lips slowly turned upward as he leaned toward me. “It may be possible you have been involved in too many mysteries lately, Frances. Are you seeing plots where there is only a discarded length of line?” He raised a brow. “A bird may have dropped it in the tree.”

  If so, it would have been a very large bird. But it was possible. And I felt ridiculous. I looked down at my plate, ready to admit he may be correct. Until he touched my hand under the table.

  “Why do you think Gibbs suffered more than a simple accident?”

  “I don’t know. I’m most likely jumping to conclusions.”

  “Perhaps, but I have a healthy respect for your instincts, and I’d like to know what has your antennae twitching. What makes you suspicious?”

  I should have known George wouldn’t brush my concerns aside without a thought. But to answer his question—what was making me suspicious?

  “First of all, Gibbs himself. He claims he was knocked off the horse by a blow to the chest. He also claims to have a mark across his chest to prove it.”

  “Has anyone seen this mark?”

  I released a gurgle of laughter. “The vicar’s wife passed on that information. He certainly didn’t show it to her, but why would he lie?”

  George shrugged. “The man felt foolish and wanted to save face.”

  “And you know that because?”

  “He’s a man?”

  I released a tsk.

  “He’s an older man who doesn’t want to appear old or worse, clumsy in the eyes of his employer.”
/>   “But you aren’t his employer. You don’t know Mr. Gibbs at all. He may be as honest as the day is long. You really have no basis for making such a judgment.”

  “So, what should I do? Ask him to show me the marks on his chest?”

  I grinned. “According to Mrs. Carruthers, he would be more than willing to do so, but Dr. Woodrow examined him. If there were such marks on his chest, the doctor would have seen them.”

  “Woodrow was focused on the broken leg. Gibbs didn’t mention having pain anywhere else.”

  “Then the only option is to check with the man himself.” I picked up my wineglass and took a sip. “It would be an easy way to determine if I am jumping to conclusions or not. And I would like to know.”

  “Well, I can’t allow you to walk into Gibbs’s sick room and demand to see his naked chest, so I suppose I must take on that task.”

  “Thank you, George. You indulge me so.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Why do I have the feeling I’ve just lost a game of chess?”

  “Chess? I can’t imagine what you mean.” I gave his hand a squeeze before returning mine to my lap. “You agreed to help me clear up some suspicions, and I’m very grateful.”

  “Well, anything to make you happy, my dear.” His eyes sparkled as he whispered the endearment, and I must admit I tingled with pleasure upon hearing the words. “However, it will have to wait a bit longer. I won’t be able to get away tomorrow. By the way, what’s your second reason?”

  I gave him a quizzical glance.

  “When I asked you what made you suspicious, you said, first of all, then you talked about Gibbs. What is second?”

  George waited while I pushed a bit of curry around my plate. If I told him my suspicions, he’d likely think I was insane, but who else could I share them with? “The second is the footman. Two men, employed by the earl, suffered serious accidents one day apart.”

  Under the weight of George’s incredulous stare, I faltered, bit my lip, and persevered. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but what if someone is trying to cause mischief for your brother?”

  “By killing a man?”

  “Perhaps O’Brien wasn’t meant to die, just become ill. Whoever sold him the ginger beer couldn’t have known he’d drink almost the entire jug.”

  “What would be the purpose of such a diabolical plan—chase all the servants off the estate? Hart would simply find new ones.”

  “I don’t know what the motive would be. I just wonder if it’s more than a coincidence.”

  George opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a sigh, his brows drawn together in a frown. “Perhaps we should avoid speculation until Dr. Woodrow presents his findings on the ginger beer. But in the meantime, I think I’ll take a look at that line you found.”

  It was reassuring to know George didn’t believe in coincidences either.

  * * *

  Each day in the country seemed much like the one before. Anne, Rose, and I rode out again on Tuesday, and again we came across Percy Bradmore. This time, with Fiona’s permission, I invited him to join us for luncheon that afternoon, which was to take place on the east lawn just beyond the rose gardens, with a surprise event afterward.

  The surprise became apparent when I crossed the lawn to join my fellow guests and nearly collided with Mr. Winnie coming around the maze, his arms filled with archery equipment. He pulled up short and dropped his burden, causing the groom who followed him to stumble forward under his heavy load. Ignoring the groom, Winnie put out a hand to steady me.

  “Forgive me, Lady Harleigh. I didn’t see you there.”

  “I should think not. You were loaded up to the top of your head in supplies.”

  He grinned, showing a dimple in one of the bare spots of his beard. “I should have asked for more help or started this task sooner.”

  “I can guess who requested archery. This must be Lady Fiona’s doing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. She had me searching for the targets and such as soon as she knew more guests were arriving. Spent the better part of a day rooting through every nook and cranny. Finally found them stored away with some old fishing equipment and cricket bats.”

  “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

  He stooped to gather the arrows and bows. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ve plenty of work to catch up on once I’m finished with this.”

  His words reminded me he was the acting steward since Gibbs’s accident. “Mr. Winnie, I’m certain Lady Fiona didn’t expect you to set up these targets yourself. You are well within your rights to assign these tasks to others if you have obligations elsewhere.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded and bent to his task, and I headed over to the tables set up for our luncheon. I eyed the maze as I walked past. I loved a maze but had yet to investigate this one. The yew walls stretched several feet over my head. I wondered if I could lose myself inside while the archery took place. I never took the time to practice and my proficiency could come and go like a summer shower. Sometimes I surprised myself with my skill, often landing quite near the bull’s-eye. Other times, something was just off. Whether it was my aim, my balance, or my rhythm I couldn’t say, but I’ve been known to miss the target completely, or worse, send my arrow a mere yard or two in front of me before it fell to the ground, probably in humiliation.

  Fiona sidled up beside me, her eyes glowing with delight. “Won’t this be fun, dear? Archery is something we can all have a go at, both ladies and gentlemen. I knew the targets were here somewhere and was positively thrilled to bits when Winnie told me he’d found them.” She gave me a nudge. “When was the last time you shot an arrow?”

  “Far too long. I don’t know if it’s wise to trust me with a bow and arrow. Someone could be injured.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll team you with George. He can refresh you on the proper stance and technique.” She batted her lashes. “Won’t that be fun?”

  I could hardly argue with her. Anytime George had his arms around me was lovely. But something else she’d said bothered me. “Did you say team?”

  “Of course. It’s to be a competition. A tournament of sorts. There are three targets so we can play in teams of two or three.”

  “Should we not just shoot for fun, or to hone our skills?”

  “What would be the point of that?” She shook her head. “It must be a competition.”

  “But you have all these men here. And they are so—competitive. They will argue over rules, and the distance to the target, and anything else they can think of. You may end up with a brawl on your hands.”

  “Oh, pish! We have everything marked out, the distance to the targets will be measured exactly, and I won’t stand for any complaints about the rules.” She shrugged. “If there’s a brawl, so be it. But I can assure you everyone will behave.”

  “You don’t fool me, dear. I happen to recall you are an excellent archer. You only wish to do this because you expect to win.” I chuckled as Fiona pursed her lips. “I’m surprised you’re willing to give up George as your partner.”

  She laughed aloud. “George is skillful with a bow, but Nash has been practicing. I think we have a very good chance. Now, enough of this.” She brushed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt. “Be a good friend and introduce me to Mr. Bradmore. Is that him coming across the lawn?”

  Indeed, Mr. Bradmore was almost upon us. I raised my hand to catch his attention and drew him over to present to Fiona.

  “I cannot believe we have never met, Mr. Bradmore. Have you never visited your aunt and uncle before?”

  “Only as a child, Lady Fiona. I am actually their great-nephew. My father and the baron were not particularly close. Since Father was in the military, I grew up wherever he was sent.”

  “As someone who rarely left this estate as a child, that sounds quite fascinating. Do you never visit them in London?”

  “I rarely find myself in London, but since it’s become clear that I’ll be heir to the title, and the current Lord de Brook spends
more and more time in London, I must visit him there. But those visits are more business than social in nature. I can’t remember the last time I attended a soiree in town.”

  “That’s right. I’d forgotten the current baron has no children. No wonder you stay away from London, Mr. Bradmore. All the matchmaking mamas must be eager to introduce you to their daughters.”

  He tipped his head and flashed an engaging smile. “You have found me out, Lady Nash.”

  I stood back as the two of them had a good laugh. Single gentlemen had been escaping mothers of daughters for generations. This was nothing new, yet I had the sense Mr. Bradmore was relieved that Fiona provided an excuse for his absence from town, for what must be ten years or more. The man must be at least thirty. I gave myself a shake. Perhaps he was using Fiona’s excuse to evade a direct answer. His reasons, if there were reasons, for avoiding London were none of our concern. The man was just the nephew of a neighbor. I didn’t need to know everything about him.

  Fiona took his arm and offered to make him known to everyone in our group. I followed them back to the table laden with food. A large white canopy shaded the area, and the table linens fluttered in the breeze as the guests stepped up to fill their plates. Assorted chairs and blankets were strewn nearby so we could eat in small groups.

  I spied Leo and Lily relaxing on one of the blankets under a tree, with Mr. Treadwell nearby, as usual. He reclined on Lily’s other side, leaning back on his elbows. The men had changed out of their sporting gear and into country tweeds. Mr. Treadwell’s jacket was open, his long legs stretched out before him, a straw boater tipped over his eyes. The man was young, reasonably good-looking, and insanely wealthy. Did coming from such a fortunate situation lead him to believe he could have anything he wanted? His friend’s fiancée for example?

  I wandered over to their little group. Treadwell made as if to rise as I approached.

  “No need to rise for my benefit, Mr. Treadwell. There is plenty of room here for me.”

  I slipped down across from Lily, sitting on my hip with my legs folded to the side. “How was the shooting today, gentlemen?”

  Leo’s smile lit his face. “Capital, Lady Harleigh. I participated in a shooting party back in my school days, but this is still a novel experience for me. Can’t say when I’ve enjoyed myself so well.”

 

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