Sidney cradled his jaw in one hand, running his index finger back and forth over his lips as he contemplated the matter. “It’s possible he became angry when you didn’t appear, and they fought and he stabbed her.” He shook his head. “But I doubt it. A man capable of making his way from Germany all the way to the North Riding of Yorkshire, through what I would term hostile territory, given his nationality, would be both patient and cool under pressure. I can’t imagine he suddenly snapped and skewered the girl out of disappointment. Not when he must have known she was his best hope.”
I nodded, agreeing with his assessment. “But he might have arrived at the barn before we did. After all, someone laid out Bauer’s body, perhaps even tried to help her.” My gaze dipped to the floor as I imagined the barn. “If he was hiding in the hay loft, maybe he even witnessed her murder.”
If so, he must have known that if he tried to come forward with what he knew, he would be the one arrested. After all, he was a German in hostile territory, and if he admitted to being in that barn when Bauer was killed, then he would all but sign his death warrant.
I sat forward, pounding my leg with my fist in emphasis. “We have to find him.”
“Yes, before someone else does,” Sidney agreed, but then his gaze sharpened. “But that doesn’t mean you can go charging off after him into the woods.”
I pressed a hand to my brow guiltily. “I know.”
“All of this is mere speculation. He might be the murderer. He might intend to harm you.” His voice turned slicing. “I can’t imagine racing off half-cocked after a suspect was part of your training.”
I narrowed my eyes, knowing this must have been the voice he’d used in the trenches whenever his men had required reprimanding, and not appreciating his turning it on me. “Yes, well, I didn’t often have the pleasure of pursuing a suspect. Normally I was the one being hunted,” I snapped, anticipating the manner in which his features then blanched.
Shame infused me as I recognized I’d said that with the precise intent of hurting him. The very fact that I’d expected such a response, expected it to silence him, told me I’d known perfectly well what an effective weapon it was.
I knew how much Sidney hated the thought of me being in danger. He still struggled with the reality that I’d so often chosen to place myself at peril during my assignments with the Secret Service during the war while he’d believed I was safe at home in London. To his credit, he had never doubted my capability, nor had he tried to obstruct me from doing what needed to be done in our investigations since. No matter the risks. And my actions today had been foolhardy. I’d already admitted as much to myself. I’d deserved a scolding. Wouldn’t I have done the same to Sidney if our situations were reversed? And yet I’d lashed out cruelly, aiming for his weak spot—his fear for me.
I moved over to the fainting couch, sinking down beside him as I pressed a hand to his arm. “Sidney, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. And you’re right. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all, when I ran off after that man in the woods.” I squeezed his arm, hoping he could sense my remorse. “It won’t happen again.”
His deep blue eyes searched mine, perhaps trying to tell how earnest I was, and I let him, not withholding anything. “If something happened to you . . .” he murmured, lifting his hand to grasp my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. The callused pads gently abraded my skin.
“I know,” I said, not needing him to complete the sentence, for I felt the same.
His gaze dipped to my lips, and I thought he meant to kiss me, but apparently his thoughts had not gone in the same direction mine had. “That treehouse in the woods.”
I stilled, my heart thudding against my ribs.
“I know Rob built it.”
I pulled away, turning so that he couldn’t see my face, though he grabbed my arm, trying to stop me. “I’m not discussing that.”
“Verity, look at me.”
I shook my head and broke free of his grip to rise to my feet. “No.”
“Verity, you can’t keep refusing to confront this. I know you’re not sleeping. I watch how you pick at your food at most meals.”
I remained resolutely turned away, unfastening the buttons at the shoulder seam of my sapphire-blue dress.
“We came here so you could finally grieve, but you’ll barely even speak Rob’s name.”
My chest was so tight I thought I might never draw a proper breath again, but I kept my fingers moving, taking off my sash belt and throwing it on the bed.
“And this investigation is yet another distraction to keep you from facing it,” he continued relentlessly. “Verity, talk to me!” he pleaded.
“I can’t.” I shook my head again, pulling the tunic over my head before dropping the skirt, racing now to change clothes as if my life depended on it.
“Verity,” he chided.
“I can’t!” I finally shouted at him. My body shook with repressed emotion, and the pained look in his eyes made me want to bury my head in my hands. Instead, I snatched up my slate-blue voile blouse and thrust my arms into the sleeves. “I just can’t.”
“Why?” he asked tightly as I stepped into my charcoal-gray skirt and pulled it up over my hips.
Because if I started, if I let loose the torrent of emotions I’d buried deep inside me, I feared I would never be able to stop. I had hoped that being here I could confront small pieces of that pain one at a time. I still hoped it. But to speak of what I was feeling—and with Sidney, who I’d believed was dead for fifteen long months—the very idea choked me. For I knew that some of my grief over him was mixed up with my grief over Rob, and there was no way to separate them. To speak of one was to speak of the other. And though I’d shared some of the pain Sidney’s alleged passing had caused me, I had never let him witness the full impact of it. The thought of doing so now shook me, for it was a hole so dark and so deep, I wasn’t certain I would ever reach the bottom of it.
I moved toward the door, intent on escaping, but I couldn’t leave without saying something. “Just . . . give me time,” I said over my shoulder, and then hastened from the room before he could object.
I hurried down the hall, intent on finding Tante Ilse, but when I rapped on her bedchamber door, no one answered. Whirling away, I intended to retrace my steps to the staircase, only to be brought up short by Matilda’s scowling visage. Given my unsettled emotions, she was about the last person I wanted to see, but when I moved to stride past her with a curt nod, her words halted me in my tracks.
“I caught Miss Bauer in your bedchamber the day you arrived. She was searchin’ through yer things,” she continued as I turned to face her.
I thought back to our arrival, how I’d noticed my handbag had been rifled through. Because of our contentious history, I’d blamed Matilda. But perhaps I’d been wrong.
As if reading my thoughts, her eyes narrowed. “Given wot ye seem so intent on blamin’ the Kraut’s murder on me, I thought ye should know.” She scoffed. “Though, no doubt you’ll decide I’m lyin’ about that, too.”
“It’s your own fault I don’t trust you, and you know it,” I replied crisply. “You made it abundantly clear who your loyalty lies with, and it isn’t me.”
She clasped her hands beneath her substantial bosom and arched her chin. “Aye,” she admitted. “But that don’t mean I didn’t have your best interests at heart.” The hard black chips of her eyes softened the tiniest fraction. “I know ye grieved Mr. Kent when ye believed he’d died. Just as I know ye grieved yer brother Rob.”
Why this acknowledgment should leave me feeling like I’d been punched in the gut, I didn’t know, but Matilda had been my maid for three years during the war. She had been my most constant companion, even as little as we liked each other. She had been there when Father telephoned to tell me about Rob, and she had been there when the telegram arrived to inform me of Sidney. That she had seen me at my most vulnerable and still betrayed me was undoubtedly wrapped up in my extreme disli
ke of her. And yet, something in her eyes told me she hadn’t meant to hurt me.
“But grief can make ye do things ye never would otherwise. It can tear ye up and turn ye around, till ye don’t know which way’s up and which way’s down, and what’s right and what’s wrong. Only what stops it.” Her mouth firmed. “I’ll not apologize for doin’ what I could to keep ye from harmin’ yourself. Even tellin’ yer mother.”
The matter was hardly so black-and-white, and I still believed she could have handled matters better, but when phrased in that light, I felt less out of charity with her. Though I wasn’t about to tell her that.
In any case, she didn’t expect a response as she turned to go, but she did pause to deliver one last pronouncement. And per usual, it was the most enticing one. “Oh, and your bedchamber isn’t the only place I saw Miss Bauer where she shouldn’t ’ve been.” She arched her chin. “She crept out of yer brother’s room a few nights past. And by the rumpled sight of her, she wasn’t changin’ the linens.”
I frowned at her retreating back, wondering if what she’d said was true. I wanted to dismiss the possibility, but while Matilda was prone to framing things in the worst possible light, I had never known her to lie outright. And it was difficult to see how Bauer leaving Tim’s room at night in a rumpled state could be entirely innocent.
If my feckless younger brother had been intimate with the girl, it might explain his strong reaction to her death. I’d thought it odd at the time, given the fact he’d served in the trenches for more than a year, but his having known the maid—in more than one sense—could account for it. He’d also been remarkably jittery and distracted, even more so than before.
My insides twisted at the possibility that there might be a more disturbing reason behind his behavior, but just as quickly I dismissed it. Tim was not a killer. But he might know something important.
I pattered down the staircase to the entry, glad to find Abbott was still hovering about, completing his duties. “Do you know where I might find Tim?”
“I believe the young Mr. Townsend went for a walk.”
Taking Tabitha with him, no doubt. That’s why she hadn’t greeted us upon our return.
“What of my great-aunt?”
“Frau Vischering is in the conservatory.”
I thanked him and hurried down the corridor to the farthest chamber on the right. Though it wasn’t grand by any measure, my mother was still justifiably proud of the space. Various plants and hothouse blooms were placed near the large windows spanning the two outer walls, while species that required less sunlight were set closer to the door. A cabinet and worktable stood to the left, while the wall to the right was painted with a large mural of the Garden of Eden, complete with a strategically shrouded Adam and Eve nestled in the background.
I found Tante Ilse perched on one of the wooden benches, her gaze turned toward the wind-whipped landscape outside the window and the lowering clouds. The scenery was a stark contrast to the humid air and floral scents in the room. It was obvious she was lost in thought, and unhappy thought at that. When she failed to acknowledge my presence, I was forced to speak, lest I startle her.
“May I sit with you?”
She looked up at me then, though it seemed to take her a moment longer to recollect where she was. “Yes, of course. This is a pretty blouse,” she remarked, fingering the fabric at my sleeve as I sat.
“Thank you.”
Her gaze trailed over my features, searching for something. “Sarah said you returned. That they are still looking for Bauer’s killer, but we can bury her.”
“Yes. Freddy transported her to the undertaker, and I believe Mother is arranging everything with the church.”
She nodded, turning away. “Yes, yes. She said as much.” She sighed wearily, her shoulders seeming to bow beneath the weight of her grief and guilt. “Poor girl. I wish I had never let her convince me to bring her here.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in interest. “You didn’t want to bring her?”
“I did not intend to even come myself,” she admitted sadly. “I knew how it would be. I did not wish to make trouble.”
“But the threats you received?”
She nodded. “Yes, they upset me. But I hoped that in time they would stop. Bauer saw it differently. And she knew . . . she knew how much I longed to be reconciled with all of you. After all, you are the sole family I have left.”
“But surely there was nothing to reconcile,” I contradicted. “I certainly don’t harbor any ill will toward you. We were simply trapped on different sides.” I paused, pondering something I should have long ago. “Do you harbor any ill will toward me?”
She reached over to clasp my hand. “Nein, Liebchen. I know you have only done your duty, just like your dear husband and your brothers. Just like your cousins did fighting for the kaiser. But I could not know for sure that you would see things the way I did. Just like I could not know how your parents really felt.” Her head dipped. “After all, they lost Robert. They have the right to feel angry.”
I swallowed hard, choking down the lump that had gathered at the back of my throat upon hearing Rob’s name. “But not at you.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She gestured almost listlessly. “Anyway, I did not know. And I thought merely to continue to write letters, hoping some of them would make it to you and to Yorkshire. But Bauer convinced me that it would be better to go to England and speak to you myself before it was too late.”
My heart stilled upon hearing these last words, but she continued on as if they were of no consequence.
“She also knew well that I no longer had family there to look after me, and I think the sentimental girl wished to change that. Especially since her own family was gone.”
“Tante, are you sick?” I asked, forcing the words past my lips.
She turned to look at me, her eyes registering less surprise at the question than I expected.
“You said, ‘before it was too late.’”
Her lips softened in a consoling smile. “I am old, mein Liebchen.”
Which wasn’t actually an answer.
“Sick or well, I am not much longer for this earth. But do not fret. We still have time.”
But rather than reassure me, her words left me feeling even more conscious of the passage of time, and the fear that it was running out.
I found myself thinking of Bauer, and wondering whether she’d had any inkling that day when she went to the field barn that death would find her. She must have had hopes and plans, thoughts beyond serving as Tante Ilse’s maid. Had she hoped that coming to England would offer her a fresh start? Had her reasons for encouraging Tante Ilse to come here truly been so selfless and pragmatic? Or had she harbored ulterior motives?
“Did Bauer mention meeting anyone in Hawes? In particular, meeting another German?” I asked, wondering if Tante Ilse had remembered anything. The last time we’d spoken of the matter, she’d claimed her maid didn’t know anyone, but she’d been grieving deeply, and her words had grown confused. I thought that with more time, she might have recalled something.
“Another German?” her voice creaked in surprise. “Here in Hawes? No, no, she did not tell me anything about that.” She frowned. “Is there?”
“I don’t know. But Bauer was seen speaking with a strange man in the village by several people, and one of those witnesses claimed he was a German.” I elected not to bring up the incident in the churchyard when she had claimed to see the second deserter, as that had only seemed to fluster her the last time I’d mentioned it.
Her face flushed with fury. “And let me guess, evidence or no, they’ve decided that he must be the killer.” Her eyes snapped to me. “Have you?”
“I don’t know who did it,” I replied honestly. “But whoever that man is, whether he’s German or not, it’s important we find him and speak with him before the others do. He might know something that can help us.” I reached up to help drape the sid
e of her floral shawl that had slipped behind her back around her shoulder. “You’re certain she said nothing about him?”
Some of the color faded from her face, and the rigid line of her jaw softened. “No.”
“If she had met another German, if he’d needed help, do you think she would have tried to do what she could for him?”
“Yes, that would be very like her. In Monschau she always tried to help others, even when . . .” She gasped and her eyes widened. “Oh, wait. There was a man.”
I straightened eagerly.
“Not here, but back in Germany. She told me she had given him something to eat once, but then he had started following her. That she didn’t like it. He unsettled her.”
“But she didn’t say he’d followed her here?”
“No, and I hope she would have.”
I drummed my fingers against the edge of the bench beneath me, wondering how likely it was that the man had actually followed her all the way to England. And what Bauer’s reaction would have been if he had. The probability seemed slim, but if he had, that might cast an altogether different light on the fellow. A far grimmer light.
My ruminations were interrupted by the appearance of Abbott. “Mrs. Kent, you have a telephone call.”
I pushed to my feet, belatedly turning to ask Tante Ilse to excuse me before striding toward the entry hall.
“Rosalind?” I asked, speaking into the mouthpiece.
“I see you correctly construed my message,” Kathleen’s dry voice quipped over the connection, which crackled slightly at the edges.
“You’ve got something for me?”
“I do, but it’s not what you’re hoping.”
“Oh?”
“The report has been sealed. The War Office is denying access to it.”
Murder Most Fair Page 27
