A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “You’d have to ask her. I know what she does; I don’t know why.” She narrowed her eyes. “If I remember correctly, her father encouraged the match with Durant and she went along.”

  “Perhaps she has regrets.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  I grimaced. “He is not someone I’d care to spend a lifetime with, no.”

  She caught my wrist and pulled me to a stop, staring into my face with widened eyes. “A lifetime? Dinner or even tea would be too long. He doesn’t even speak in complete sentences.”

  “Do you think she wants to end her marriage?”

  “She may have regrets, but I daresay she’d never leave the man. Her father holds him in high regard. Henry Kendrick would be more likely to keep his son-in-law and disown his daughter if she ever considered divorce.” She turned her gaze on me. “I suppose that answers your question. She regrets her marriage but can’t leave the man, so she has affairs and amuses herself with servants. At least that’s one theory.”

  “But as much as he loves his son-in-law, he won’t make him a partner. Maybe Durant will leave Mr. Kendrick.”

  “But one assumes that was the reason he married Eliza, to get a foot in the door of her father’s company.”

  I stopped in my tracks and grasped Fiona’s arm. “You said all the servants knew about Eliza and the under-butler. What if O’Brien threatened Eliza with revealing her affair to her husband?”

  “Gad, Frances, you think she’d poison him?”

  “I don’t know. Would she?”

  Fiona pondered the idea for a moment. “To be honest, I’d be surprised if Durant isn’t well aware of her behavior.” She shrugged. “As long as Eliza doesn’t become notorious, I suspect he’ll put up with her escapades.”

  “What a mess.” My shoulders slumped as I considered the emptiness of the Durants’ marriage.

  Fiona touched my shoulder. “I see where your thoughts are going, and you must stop them. Not all marriages are doomed to fail. All you need do is look at my marriage for a shining example of wedded bliss.”

  I smiled. “Yes, but the two of you are that once-in-a-lifetime match. None of us mere mortals can aspire to such happiness.”

  She waved a hand. “Piffle. It’s all down to me, you know. I must constantly remind Robert of the happiness and comfort I bring to his life. Though George is a bit like me.” She pondered a moment. “He may take to reminding you. It makes no matter, I suppose. As long as you’re both thinking about it, your marriage will be happy.”

  As we were approaching the picnic grounds, she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “My point, dear, is that you and my brother are marrying for love. This is not something your mother arranged. It will be nothing like your first marriage.”

  Dear Fi. I squeezed her hand and took a step toward the group when I recalled what I’d forgotten to ask my mother. “Do you know if George and my mother ever had some sort of disagreement?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

  “Initially, because of the way my mother acted around him. First, she pretended not to remember him, and when she did recall, it seems as though she doesn’t remember him fondly.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened, her lips tightened, and she drew herself up to her full height. “That’s curious. Has she been speaking ill of him? Your mother, the same woman who thought Reginald Wynn was the perfect match for you?”

  “She thought his title the perfect match for the family. And you needn’t take offense. It wasn’t that she spoke ill of George, it was more that I spoke highly of him and she clearly didn’t care to hear it.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t like you having your own opinions.”

  “She always listened to my opinions before.”

  Fiona gave me an assessing look.

  “What?”

  “When I first met you and Mrs. Price, your opinions were her opinions. You were so eager to please her.”

  I bristled at the implication. “I’ve always acted on my own judgment.”

  “You were always capable of doing so. Of that I’m certain. But for your first season, you deferred to her in everything, the style of your hair, your dress, what events you’d attend.”

  “I thought she knew best.”

  “Did she? Wasn’t Reggie her choice?”

  “Yes, but I can’t blame my mother for my marriage. I didn’t just go along with the idea, I thought it a good one.”

  “But you’ve since come to realize that isn’t the best way to enter a marriage. You didn’t allow Lily to choose a husband in such a manner.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m just saying you’ve changed over the years. Your mother hasn’t.”

  I pondered this. “She did try to make Lily reconsider her choice.”

  “She didn’t!”

  I nodded. “You may be right. She may not be used to a daughter who knows her own mind. She might have been arguing with me about George just for the sake of arguing.” Just as I took some comfort in the idea, I recalled my conversation with George and how he told me I’d have to ask my mother for an explanation. I relayed the conversation to Fiona.

  “I can’t imagine what type of disagreement they could have had, but if you want to know, I suggest you ask her.” She nodded to the group of picnickers. “She’s right there.”

  While I could hardly open such a conversation in the midst of a group of jolly picnickers, I did join my mother, Aunt Hetty, and Eliza Durant at their little table situated in the shade of a willow tree. I no sooner seated myself than the under-butler brought the teapot.

  I nearly jumped from my seat and shot a glance at Eliza whose calm demeanor showed no embarrassment or any other reaction to her lover. The three other women turned to me with inquiring gazes. I smiled. “My chair was unsteady,” I said, and made as if to adjust it. The under-butler stepped up behind me, almost making me jump again.

  “If you’ll allow me, my lady?” I stood while he settled the chair on the perfectly flat patch of earth. Reseating myself, I gave him a nod. “Much better, thank you.”

  Hetty kept an eye on me, but Mother returned to her conversation with Eliza. “I don’t believe I understand you, my dear. Your husband is a baronet, but he is employed by your father?”

  Eliza gave her a stiff smile. “My husband is heir to a baronetcy and is unlikely to come into the title for many years. His employment is due both to his interest in the world of business and a need to occupy himself.”

  “I see.” Mother looked altogether baffled at the thought of working for the purpose of occupying oneself.

  “He’s quite remarkable in his field. My father doesn’t know what he’d do without Durant’s guidance.”

  “Is there a reason to think Mr. Kendrick will lose Mr. Durant’s guidance anytime soon?” Hetty was fond of Mr. Kendrick and clearly believed he’d survive the loss of Mr. Durant without losing sleep.

  “One never knows,” Eliza said airily. “As Durant gives so much of himself to the company, it would seem only reasonable that my father should make him a partner so he’d have ownership in the business. If he’s exerting so much effort only to hand the reins over to Leo someday, what is the point? He may just move on to another company where he’s appreciated.”

  Hetty’s jaw tightened, my mother made an encouraging response, and I wondered about Durant’s other options and if this was the extreme measure he’d mentioned. Yes, he could leave Mr. Kendrick’s employ and take his skills elsewhere. But he’d married Eliza as a way to advance in the company. He could hardly do that a second time. There was another option, however. He could eliminate the one person who stood between him and his goals—Leo.

  Durant had started the rumor it was Anne’s errant shot that hit Charles and everyone seemed to accept that theory, much to poor Anne’s chagrin. But Durant had been her partner for the competition. He’d stood next to her. In all the confusion, was it possible Durant made the shot with the intention of hitting Leo, but Charles stepp
ed in the way at the last moment? If so, his accusation of Anne had been well timed. She would have been blamed, and he would have been made partner.

  Chapter 14

  We lingered over our picnic far too long for my liking. Long enough for my mother to bring up the subject of the wedding. Between the shoot, the so-called accidents, and Michael O’Brien’s possible murder, the wedding had been pushed farther to the back of my mind.

  “I so had my heart set on seeing my daughter wed from St. Thomas’s in New York,” she said. “I still don’t understand their desire for a such a small, country affair.”

  “Our mother is likely to be disappointed as well,” Eliza added with a tsk. “Leo mentioned something about the timing of the wedding trip or some such reason. I should think the ceremony itself is at least as important as the trip. He could certainly let Durant take over whatever business is in the way and keep to the original plans. It is only a difference of a few weeks after all.”

  “It was closer to a difference of seven or eight weeks.” Hetty stood as if to put an end to the conversation. “And the ceremony is important to them, which is why they chose something meaningful, with only close friends and family, over a showy production meant only to impress society at large. Besides, if changing the date allows for less disruption to Mr. Kendrick’s business, all the better.”

  I silently gave thanks for Aunt Hetty’s presence of mind in putting an end to any speculation about the change in wedding plans. So far there had been few questions, which suited me perfectly. If Eliza’s sour expression was anything to go by, she felt quite put in her place and was not likely to mention the subject again. My mother was another story. She could never leave an issue alone while there might still be a chance of winning her point. With her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed, I could see her working up an argument.

  I came to my feet to join Hetty. “Perhaps it’s time we should be heading back. The gentlemen have surely returned from the field by now, and it seems we may be in for a shower soon.”

  Fiona glanced at the clouds gathering overhead and seconded my suggestion. We all collected our belongings, and those who preferred to ride, headed for the carriage.

  I had another reason for ending this gathering. Since George had forgone the fields this morning in favor of visiting his steward, I was eager to speak to him before losing him to some other task. Fortunately, as the four of us walked back to the manor, I spotted him leaving Mr. Winnie’s cottage. The wood between us had thinned and would soon give way to the manicured lawn leading to the maze and on to the manor. He was dressed for a ramble in the country: a rough tweed coat over his white shirt, no tie, sturdy boots. He’d apparently forgotten his hat, so the wind had given his dark hair a casually tousled look that made my legs feel quite rubbery. A smile spread across my lips of its own accord.

  It quickly faded as George, in an attempt to convey some message, enacted the most ridiculous pantomime I’d ever seen. He’d already caught my attention, so waving his arms in that wild manner was unnecessary. His depiction of walking was clear, but did he mean me, or him? And walk to where? He then crouched down, touched the ground in front of him, and wiggled his fingers in the air as he stood up.

  The message completely escaped me.

  “He wants you to meet him in the rose garden.” Fiona had leaned into my side to enlighten me with a whisper. “Now, acknowledge him so he’ll stop that nonsense.”

  With a nod and subtle motion of my hand, he ceased his activities and moved away from us around the other side of the maze. I glanced behind to see if the two younger ladies had noticed this exhibition, grateful their heads were together in conversation.

  “How on earth did you know what he was saying?” I stared at Fiona in wonder.

  “George has always been impossible at charades, but over the years I’ve learned to understand some of his pantomimes.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “See, he does have some failings. Do you know where the rose garden is?”

  I did not. Fiona provided directions and distracted Lottie and Anne long enough for me to slip away. I worked my way past the maze and over the lawn, to the back of the manor and the formal gardens. The rose gardens were just through an archway in a stand of conifers. As I walked through, George surprised me with a touch on my shoulder. I turned to find myself in his arms.

  After a breathtaking kiss, he took a step back, resting his forearms on my shoulders, his fingers twisting a lock of my hair that had come loose from its pin. “If I ever wondered if you were the woman for me, the fact that you correctly interpreted my wild gestures and contortions, proves you are.” His gaze sharpened. “Not that I ever wondered, of course. Not even for a moment.”

  “Not that I think you should wonder, but I confess I had no idea what you were trying to tell me. Fortunately, your sister did.”

  “I shall have to brush up on my skills,” he said with a sigh. “Or we could devise signals.”

  I widened my eyes. “Or we could just speak to each other?”

  “Well, if you insist on taking the easy route.” He led me over to a wooden bench beneath an arbor where a climbing rose released a tart lemony scent. I leaned into the pink blossoms and breathed in their fragrance before sitting down with George beside me.

  “Since you were so eager to see me, you must have some news,” I said.

  He took my hand and brushed his lips across my fingers. “I beg to differ with you, my dear. I am always eager to see you, especially as we are surrounded by guests and have had so little time alone.”

  “There does always seem to be someone about, doesn’t there? I must say you’ve been very inventive in finding these secluded spots, but I’m going to be very unromantic now and ask if you visited Mr. Gibbs this morning.”

  “Unromantic to say the least.” He tsked. “But yes, I did see him, and it does appear he ran into something narrow, and straight, which was much more likely to be the line you found than any branch. And as to that, I checked the path and found the fishing line, just as you described. It’s quite possible Gibbs might have run into it, had it been stretched across the path.” At my expression of satisfaction, he nodded. “But there’s little reason to assume that’s what happened. He can’t think of anyone who’d want to harm him, or who would get up to such malicious mischief.”

  “I had similar results in talking with the staff. None of them could think of anyone in particular who’d want to harm Michael, but I did learn there is much more going on below stairs than Mr. Crocker knows.” I told him what I’d learned about the footman’s dalliances with the maids and the under-butler’s tryst with Eliza Durant.

  “From what I’ve been able to learn, Mr. Crocker is quite the tartar with the staff, so they are all eager to keep the knowledge of these goings-on from his attention. He sat in on Fisk’s interviews with the staff, and while he was there, everyone spoke as if the household ran like clockwork and they were all the closest of friends.”

  He raised a brow. “How did you learn any different?”

  “Fiona passed on a bit of gossip from her maid, and Ben, the first footman, caught up with me in the gallery so we were able to speak privately. Between the two of them, I’ve come to believe none of the staff thought well of Michael. Ben told me the man drank and stole from the household. At least he suspected that was the case. Things went missing when Michael was around, was how he put it. Still, he didn’t think anyone on the staff was likely to murder him. He suggested it was someone in town.”

  “But you say the young man hadn’t been in the village for a few days.”

  I nodded. “I understand why he didn’t want to speak ill of O’Brien in Crocker’s presence, but I do think he should go to the constabulary and inform Fisk. As much as I hate the thought of the murderer being part of the staff, I hardly think an outsider could walk in and slip rat poison into O’Brien’s food or drink.”

  “Rat poison?”

  “Mrs. Ansel informed me it was missing from the
shelf in the laundry. I’ve set her to the task of looking for it.”

  “Does Fisk know about that?”

  “He does, but I have no idea what he makes of that information.”

  George blew out a breath. “So, what do we have? One member of Hart’s staff was injured, and another possibly murdered.” He held up a hand as I sputtered a protest. “There is still a possibility he accidentally ingested the arsenic.”

  I gave him a grudging nod. “But what of Charles? Did you learn anything from Tuttle or Winnie?”

  “Tuttle looked at the maze and claims no animal could have made such a mess of the hedges. Winnie has learned the gardeners were trimming them yesterday, but none of them confessed to cutting the holes.”

  “Those holes didn’t appear to be cut by accident.”

  He nodded. “Gibbs’s injury looks deliberate as well, but his employment didn’t bring him into contact with the footman. And I can’t see a common thread other than their employment here. If you add Charles’s injury to the mix, they have nothing in common.”

  “They were all injured or killed here, on your brother’s estate. Does Hartfield have any enemies?”

  “None that I’m aware of, but I’ve written to him about these incidents. We’ll see what he has to say. Meanwhile, let’s consider the scene of each accident.”

  “Mr. Gibbs first. Who was there?”

  “We were at the stables. The usual grooms were working. Gibbs was giving instructions on the shoot to Treadwell, Durant, and Kendrick.”

  I tapped my finger against my lips. “I hadn’t considered the grooms. Did you notice which ones? And what they were doing? If the trap was meant for Gibbs, one of them could be responsible. One of them could also have a grudge against Michael.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know them by name. One was saddling a horse for Kendrick; he was in a nearby box. I have no idea where the others were or what they were doing.”

  My heart thudded. “That’s right. Leo was heading out for a ride.”