I caught a glimpse of something in her expression before she pasted on a smile. Regret, perhaps? She had pushed Father to build the family fortune for nearly three decades while she raised the children. Now work had become his life, and her children were busy with their own lives. Where did that leave her?
“You should encourage Father to slow down a bit, take some time to enjoy the fruits of his labor. The two of you could travel, or if he’s completely against the idea, at least go out in society more.”
Her smile tightened. “Your father and I have managed our lives for over thirty years without your advice, dear.” She brushed a bit of imaginary lint from her sleeve. “Now, tell me about Lily’s young man.”
I took her hint and allowed the change of topic. “I like Leo a great deal. He’s thoughtful and kind and has excellent prospects. He’ll be the sole heir to his father’s business, so Lily will want for nothing. He’s quite bright and easygoing. And he loves her. I think he’ll make her an excellent husband.”
Mother absorbed the information with a sigh. “I’m trying to take this philosophically, but the more I hear, the more I feel you let us down. Does the man have no connections to the aristocracy? You know I would have liked another title in the family.”
That rather stung. “Let who down?”
“The family, of course. What is the point of having money if not to improve one’s social standing? Lily didn’t seem to understand that, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you.”
She didn’t have to explain it, I knew her credo well. It’s just that after my marriage to Reggie, I no longer agreed with it. When Lily arrived in London and began to mix with society, I took great care that she didn’t marry a scoundrel simply because he had a title. Of course, Mother didn’t need to know that.
“Lily had the opportunity to meet many gentlemen in society, and Leo is the man who won her heart. I’m certain he’ll win yours as well if you give him a chance.”
“We’ll see.”
I served her a slice of seedy cake while she sipped her tea. “It’s so disappointing the wedding is to take place in such seclusion,” she said. “They should have come to New York, where I could have shown them off. London would have been my next choice. Plenty of society there. But this! I can tell you I am not happy about this arrangement at all.”
She poked at the cake with her fork as if assessing what she’d have to forgo later if she indulged in this treat now. Mother had always believed too large a bite of anything would surely ruin her figure. Finally, she took just the tiniest crumb, closed her eyes, and savored it. When she opened them, a scowl crossed her lips upon seeing my smile.
She placed her fork on the plate and pushed it away. “A corset can only do so much, you know. You are looking well, dear,” she added, taking me in. “Though that gown is a bit outdated.”
“It’s one from before Reggie died, so it is older, but I’ve had it refurbished.” I looked down at my afternoon dress of the softest emerald green wool. “I thought my dressmaker had made quite a good job of it.”
She shrugged, unwilling to part with her approval. “I believe I do remember Hazelton, now I think about it. His sister was a good friend of yours, was she not?”
“She most definitely was and still is. In fact, Fiona and her husband, Sir Robert Nash, are here with us this week. You’ll see them at dinner if not before.”
“How have you become so friendly with her brother? As a young widow, you must be careful in forming friendships with gentlemen. If you are seen together too often, gossips will begin to link your names.”
She watched me intently. I could see her suspicions were aroused, but I really didn’t want to tell her about our engagement yet. I’d have to do it sooner or later, but certainly not now.
“Mr. Hazelton is my neighbor in town. When Lily arrived, he very graciously allowed us the use of his carriage and accompanied us to balls and soirees when he could. And you are right. He did become a good friend to all three of us.”
“What of your brother-in-law? Why did he not squire you about?”
I almost choked on my tea. Graham lift a finger for someone else? Mother truly had no understanding of the family she’d married me into. “Graham was at Harleigh Manor much of the time. And even when he came to London, he was still quite occupied with estate business.”
“And now he is selling it.” She frowned and poked the cake with her fork, perhaps trying to flake out another suitable crumb for her consumption.
“Only the house and the property immediately surrounding it. The rest is entailed.” I shrugged. “He is fortunate he can sell the house. It takes a great deal of money to maintain these old estates.”
“Hmm. I suppose that’s true, but it seems such a waste of all your father’s money.”
Not to mention ten years of my life, I thought sourly.
She went on to inquire about Rose, and I promised once she had a chance to rest, I’d take her up to the nursery to visit with her granddaughter.
“The nursery? Well, you’ve certainly settled in here nicely. Tell me, is this Mr. Hazelton’s home?”
“It’s the home of the Earl of Hartfield, Mr. Hazelton’s brother. He’s on holiday with his family, and Mr. Hazelton graciously agreed to see to things here in his absence.”
“The earl’s married, is he? That’s unfortunate.” She came to her feet. “I think I shall rest a bit, Frances, but do send Lily up if you happen to find her.”
“Certainly, Mother.”
I’d never been so eager to escape a room. It was as if I were eighteen again, striving to please my mother. I’d forgotten how exhausting it could be—or how impossible at times. She did not sound pleased with Leo as a son-in-law, at least not yet. Nor did she seem happy about my friendship with George. I wondered if she really did remember him. He hadn’t been in town much during my debut. I’d met him back then of course, and saw him at one event or another, but once Reggie entered the scene, George had vanished.
I shrugged as I closed the door and headed toward my own room. Though she seemed a bit standoffish toward George, it was likely because he had no title. Mother loved nothing more than a British title.
In my musings, I nearly ran into the doctor as he and Lottie stepped out from the room she shared with Charles, bringing me back to the here and now, and the disaster at hand. Goodness, how easily I’d become distracted.
“How is he?” I noted Dr. Woodrow held the arrow in his hand.
“Better,” Lottie said.
“Very fortunate,” the doctor added.
I raised my brows. “After having been shot with an arrow, I doubt he’d agree with you on that point.”
“Understood. But I maintain he couldn’t have been hit in a better spot. The arrow entered about two inches, cut through a bit of flesh and tissue, and barely touched the muscle. No tear, just a small puncture, and it missed the nerve completely. He’ll be in pain, but I’d say he’s very lucky. It would have been much worse if he’d been hit almost anywhere else. Now, all we need concern ourselves with is the possibility of infection.”
“The doctor’s given me explicit instructions on all aspects of Charles’s care. I’ll make sure his wound doesn’t become infected.”
Lottie gave such a determined shake of her head, her hat flopped to the side, and clinging to a few strands of hair, batted her in the cheek. With a swipe of her hand, she whipped off the hat, striking the doctor in the back of his head. The way he automatically waved off her apology made me think it was not her first strike.
“I’ve been distracted by the arrival of my mother for the last hour. Has anyone admitted to shooting the arrow?”
“I’ve been up here with Charles, so I know no more than you, but it was an accident, surely, and who among us hasn’t had an accident?”
Charles called out to Lottie from his bed, cutting off our conversation. She excused herself, and I volunteered to walk the doctor to the door.
“I’m not entirely certain
it was an accident,” I said. “Considering everything else going on here the past few days, I have to wonder.”
“You think someone deliberately aimed the arrow at Mr. Evingdon?”
“Not exactly. Mr. Evingdon merely moved into the path of the arrow at the last moment. It happened so quickly, no one would have had a chance to take aim at him, but two other people were standing nearby—Mr. Hazelton and Mr. Kendrick.”
Woodrow studied me for a moment, probably wondering if I was hysterical or simply overreacting. “How is it none of you knows who shot the arrow?”
I raised my hands. “Simple distraction, I suppose. We were all involved in our own little groups, spread out across the lawn. The culprit took advantage of it. By the way, is it possible for you to estimate how far away from Mr. Evingdon the archer would have been standing? It seems the arrows dug farther than two inches into the targets from where we were all lined up.”
The doctor smiled. “The targets are made of different material. They are designed for arrows to sink into them. It would also depend on the strength of the archer. A small woman wouldn’t pull the bowstring back as far as a larger, stronger man, so her arrow would not fly as quickly or travel as far.”
“Of course, if one were trying to get off a shot quickly, one might not use all of his strength.”
“True. Unless someone saw who did it, or the culprit confesses, it’s likely you’ll never learn who shot the arrow.”
“Perhaps it was an accident, and I’m seeing mischief where none exists.”
We’d reached the door. The doctor paused and turned back to me as he adjusted his hat. “That may well be, but it’s also possible someone was acting maliciously.”
His mustache twitched as he weighed what he was about to tell me. “I have the results of the tests on the ginger beer. I’d planned to pass them on to Mr. Hazelton. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to do so?”
I leaned toward him, eager to hear his findings. “Of course.”
“There was no trace of arsenic.”
It took a moment for his words to register. “How could that be? You and Mr. Hazelton both thought the ginger beer was the source of the poison.”
“We thought wrong.”
“But do you still maintain arsenic poisoning is the cause of the young man’s death?”
He gave me a short nod. “I do. The tests I’ve run indicate a high level of arsenic in his body. Though I can’t say how it was introduced to his system, it was arsenic that caused his death, and that’s what I’ll be reporting to the authorities.”
I nodded, numb. The doctor took his leave, and I stood there, staring at the door. Something strange was going on. If the footman didn’t take the arsenic knowingly, and it wasn’t present in the drink for him to ingest accidentally, then that leaves only one option—someone else poisoned him. But why? And who? And did his murder have anything to do with the steward’s so-called accident, or Charles’s?
Raised voices from the drawing room broke into my thoughts.
“I don’t know why you won’t just admit it, Anne. It’s not as if anyone thinks you did it deliberately.” The needling whine belonged to Eliza Durant. I eyed the front door, wondering if escape was an option.
“You simply released your arrow too quickly, or your aim was off, or who knows what, but you ought to admit it, or we’ll all look suspicious.”
“I’m very sorry Mr. Evingdon was injured, but I had nothing to do with it.”
Anne’s voice sounded as though she were close to tears. I sighed. Escape was not an option. I headed to the drawing room wishing Arthur Durant had never made this accusation in the first place. In fact, hadn’t he been shooting right next to Anne? I’d be more inclined to believe him capable of such a malicious act than her. But was it a malicious act or an accident? If it had been an accident, perhaps he really did see her do it. My thoughts were moving in circles. I needed to speak with George, but I wanted to rescue poor Anne first.
Eliza’s voice rang out with another nasty accusation when I reached the doorway, but before I could say or do anything in response, I heard another voice.
“Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Miss Kendrick? It seems to be rather heated in here.”
I pushed open the door to see the voice had come from my brother. Alonzo strode to Anne’s side and held out his hand.
Her lower lip drooped as she stared up at Alonzo with wide eyes. Coming to her feet, she put her hand in his, and I slowly backed out of the room. My mother might cause me no end of grief this week, but I gave silent thanks my brother was on hand.
Chapter 11
It might have taken hours to search for George throughout the house. Fortunately, I found Crocker, who informed me Mr. Hazelton was meeting with Mr. Winnie and Mr. Tuttle. As the afternoon waned, and I was determined to speak with George before dinner, I headed out to the steward’s cottage, which also served as his office.
The location of our archery competition looked ominous as I walked past. The equipment had yet to be cleared away and lay scattered across the lawn. I picked up an abandoned arrow and approached one of the targets. With the shaft in my fist, I jabbed it into the bull’s-eye. Dr. Woodrow was correct. It sunk in easily. I supposed the target was stuffed with either hay or straw, both far more porous than Charles’s poor posterior. It was possible one of the contestants had shot the arrow, making it an accident. At least it would appear so.
Placing the arrow with the others, I headed around the maze. A tinkle of laughter drew me to the entrance where I found Lily and Leo. “There you are,” I said.
The two sprang apart looking absurdly guilty. “Were you looking for us?” Lily asked.
“Mother was asking for you.”
Lily’s hands fluttered. “Mother is here? Already?”
I nodded. “A day early. She, Aunt Hetty, and Alonzo arrived well over an hour ago. If you don’t want to disappoint her, you should at least greet her before dinner.”
Lily studied the ground where her foot dug into the soil, making perfect little circles. “Yes, I suppose I should.”
Both her reluctance and the singular pronoun surprised me. Now that I thought about it, Mother hadn’t asked to meet Leo either. Lily and Mother must have been corresponding these past months. Had something passed between them I should be aware of?
Leo glanced expectantly at Lily, who still looked nervous. Though I couldn’t blame her, I felt she should buck up for her fiancé’s sake. “Aren’t you eager to introduce Leo?” I gave him a coy smile. “Mother will simply love you.”
“Yes, we should give her a proper greeting,” he said, with a nod to Lily. “I’m very eager for the introduction. Lady Harleigh keeps telling me how alike the two of you are.”
When had I given him that impression? “They look a great deal alike, but their personalities are quite dissimilar.”
Lily chuckled at my awkward explanation. “I’m sure Leo will discover that for himself.” She seemed to pull herself up taller. “And yes,” she said, her voice determined. “She will love you, Leo. How could she not?” She squared her shoulders and looked at me. “Is she in the drawing room?”
“I left her in her room. She’s probably reading or catching up on correspondence before changing for dinner.”
“Excellent.” Leo extended his arm to his fiancée. “We’ll have her to ourselves.”
Lily forced a smile, and with an air of “getting on with it,” took his arm. “How jolly.”
I watched them walk toward the house, arm in arm, pleased they were spending time alone, and more specifically, without Mr. Treadwell.
Now to find George. I crossed the lawn around the maze and headed to the steward’s cottage, a picturesque building of wood and stone with a thatched roof. A cobbled path led up to the heavy wooden door. George himself answered my knock.
“Lady Harleigh. I see I’ve stayed too long with these fine men. Do come in. I won’t be much longer.”
I took a step inside following
the invitation of George’s sweeping arm. “I seem to be making a habit of interrupting your meetings, but if you do plan to finish up soon, I’ll be content to wait outside.”
“Nonsense, you must join us.”
“Please do come in, Lady Harleigh,” Mr. Winnie added, “so we may change the topic of our conversation.”
George laughed as he closed the door behind me and indicated a chair he must have just vacated. I nodded at Winnie, who’d risen from his seat behind a desk, tucked into a corner of the room. Another nod went to Mr. Tuttle, the burly gamekeeper who leaned against the wall beside the desk, next to a shelf laden with papers, files, and books. An open area with two chairs and a small table served as a sitting room next to this small office area. A door stood open beside the gamekeeper, which must lead to the rest of the cottage.
“Tuttle and I were making a little wager on how long it will take before Winnie’s beard fills in.”
The lad’s beard was absurdly sparse and did nothing to hide the scowl he threw at George. “I agree with Mr. Winnie. It’s likely time to change the subject.”
“As you wish,” George said. He leaned one hip against the desk and turned to the men. “Like me, Lady Harleigh is becoming suspicious of the accidents we’ve been experiencing the past few days.”
“The past few days, sir?” Winnie’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were only asking about Mr. Evingdon’s unfortunate mishap.”
“Indeed, that was uppermost in my mind as it was the most recent.” He sighed and glanced at me. “I’d hoped one of them might have seen someone sneaking about the maze this after-noon.”
“And?” I edged forward in my seat.
“Sadly, no.” Both men shook their heads in agreement with George’s statement. “Tuttle will check the damage to the maze and determine if it could have been done by an animal and Winnie will check with the gardeners.”
“What sort of gardener would create such a mess of the hedges?”
“Mr. Hazelton mentioned some shuffling footprints in the corner where you found the damage,” Winnie said. “It might have been a gardener examining the mess and determining how to repair it.”
A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder Page 12
