“Cleanliness, or obstruction of justice?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Do you think it’s possible Winthrop killed his wife?”
“Anything is possible until the evidence points us in a particular direction.”
Approaching the opposite side of the bed, Charlotte noted the baroness’s body had not only been washed, but clothed in a lace- and silk-trimmed chemise. “Perhaps Lord Winthrop thought nothing of cleaning his wife’s battered body because he already had his mind made up about the events surrounding her death.”
“Which would be?”
“Mr. Adair said the baron believes she was struck down by a footpad bent on thievery.”
Joseph grunted in reply. Bending over the corpse, he examined and measured the laceration on her ladyship’s cheek, jotting everything down in a brown leather journal. “When it comes to a suspicious death, the victim’s body must suffer a certain amount of immodesty in order for us to conduct a thorough inspection.”
Charlotte swallowed. “Understood.”
“I’ll do my best to protect your female sensibilities, though I suspect I’m about to make us both quite uncomfortable.”
“I’ve prepared myself to see the worst.”
“Have you?” He studied her face. “Now I understand why my sister affectionately refers to you as Practical Charlotte. I think she secretly wishes she were more like you.”
Charlotte smiled. “And I have always longed to be more carefree like Annabelle.”
“Let us get on with it, then.”
Joseph systematically searched the corpse from head to toe in an efficient and clinical manner that made the awkward moments less so. She took notes while he recited everything of import.
He confirmed her suspicion that the ring around her ladyship’s neck was not caused by a man’s hands. Based on the size and location, he speculated the contusion was made by a swift hard tug on something—possibly a necklace.
When she asked about the sequence in which the wounds were delivered, he could not say for sure which one occurred first—the abdomen or the cheek wound. Charlotte’s disappointment must have shown through, for he said, “Something’s bothering you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.”
“This particular distraction might be useful to my report.”
“The laceration to the baroness’s face seems unnecessary, given the mortal nature of her other wounds.”
“Unless it was a first strike or defensive cut.”
“Mr. Adair said as much too. I can’t shake the feeling that her assailant wanted to mar her face, either out of revenge or some perverse pleasure.”
“As a coroner, I’ve learned a few simple truths over the years.”
“And what are those?”
“Evil has no reason and no remorse. Evil people perform terrible acts because they can.” He refocused his attention on Lady Winthrop’s right hand. “You must prepare yourself, Charlotte. We might come to the end of this journey knowing the murderer’s identity, yet his purpose behind the crime might remain beyond our comprehension.”
“Now that’s a rather depressing statement.”
“True, all the same.”
After being bent over the bed and battling the cold that continually tried to creep into her bones, Charlotte straightened. She stretched her back and twisted at the waist, left, then right.
“What do we have here?” Joseph murmured.
Charlotte froze. He held up her ladyship’s right hand, studying the tip of her middle finger.
“You found something?”
“Possibly. Would you bring the light closer, please?”
“Of course.” She lifted a lamp and held it aloft. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” He’d fetched tweezers from his bag and now used them to coax something from beneath the fingernail.
“Is that a thread?”
“So it would appear, though I can’t quite make out the color in this light. Something dark.”
“Do you think the thread is linked to the murderer?”
“Without the benefit of having viewed the passageway or questioned witnesses, I couldn’t say for sure. However, do you see the white creases on the first two fingernails?” He pointed with his pinkie finger at a white line about a third of the way down the nails on the index and middle fingers.
“Yes.” The marks looked vaguely familiar, as if she had seen them before, but she couldn’t bring the memory to mind. “What are they from?”
“Have you ever grabbed hold of something with enough force, or with not the correct grip, and had a fingernail bend backward?”
Comprehension dawned. “One does not forget such instantaneous pain.”
“The white bend mark along with the dark thread buried beneath her nail leads me to believe the baroness tried to fight off her attacker.”
“Do you think she could have torn an article of clothing from her assailant’s garments?”
“It’s entirely possible.” He placed the thread within a square of white linen, folding the cloth several times before placing the small bundle inside his bag. “You were one of the first to find her ladyship. Did you see anything lying about on the ground—especially near the body?”
For the first time since finding Lady Winthrop’s corpse, Charlotte felt a sense of relief. The cloak tie she had found was red. Even with the poor lighting, she could confidently say the thread had not been red.
Even though, she could not share her findings with her friend. She molded her features into what she hoped was a considering expression. “Everything happened so quickly, and the passageway was not well illuminated.”
He nodded, accepting her noncommittal answer. “Her ladyship could have just as easily ripped the material as opposed to pulling it off completely. I’ll visit the theater first thing in the morning. Though I’m sure whatever evidence might have been left behind is gone by now.” He tossed his tweezers inside his bag. “I believe we’re done here.” He placed the baroness’s hands atop her stomach and drew up the sheet.
Charlotte took a minute to record the coroner’s final observations into the journal before handing it over. “Thank you for allowing me to participate in the exam. The process was most enlightening—and quite fascinating.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “No more so than what you do every day. At least you are given an opportunity to save lives. I deal in death, always.”
“If your investigation leads the authorities to a murderer, then you, too, have saved lives.”
He stared at her, appearing somewhat startled by her assessment.
“Have you never considered your work in such a way?” she asked, moving toward the door.
“No.” He lifted his valise. “No, I haven’t.” Gratitude softened his obsidian eyes. “Thank you.”
She smiled, opening the door. “You’re most welcome.” Her smile died the moment she saw Cameron.
No longer lounging against the wall, he now stood in the middle of the corridor with his feet braced wide apart and his arms crossed. His icy gaze bore into her with a severity that stopped her in her tracks. Slowly, he untangled his arms and lifted his chin.
“Find anything of interest?” he asked, directing his question to Blackburne.
“A dark thread beneath the middle finger on her right hand.”
“Charley,” Cameron said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Did Mr. Blackburne answer your questions?”
“As best he could, given the circumstances.”
Cameron lifted a brow, clearly expecting more of an answer.
“Until I see the murder scene and speak to witnesses,” Blackburne said, “I’m unable to give a professional opinion on the facial laceration and the thread. However, I think it’s safe to say the bruising around her throat likely occurred when her assailant yanked something—a necklace, perhaps—from her neck.”
“Pardon me, sir,” a female voice said from behind them.<
br />
A maidservant hunkered close to the wall, her anxious gaze snapping among the three of them.
Breaking away from their semicircle, Charlotte took two cautious steps toward the young woman. “Yes?” When the maid hesitated, she gentled her voice while moving even closer. “Do you have a message for one of us?”
“Mr. Granston sent me to speak with Mr. Adair.”
“And you are?”
“Alice, ma’am. Lady’s maid to her ladyship.” She dug out a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Or w-was.”
Charlotte caught Cameron’s eye before wrapping a comforting arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“W-what happened to her wasn’t right. You couldn’t have found a kinder soul in London.”
“Did you serve Lady Winthrop long?”
She nodded. “Since the year after my mistress married the baron. He didn’t like how close his new wife was to her longtime lady’s maid. So he sacked her and hired me.”
“Goodness.” Charlotte had no idea how else to respond. “How awful.”
“It wasn’t the first time he broke my mistress’s heart.” Alice shoved the damp handkerchief back up her sleeve and lifted her chin. “Although we never let on in front of him, my mistress and I became very close.”
The servant’s last comment made Charlotte’s pulse race. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cameron and Joseph had moved within hearing range. They seemed content to allow her to ask the maid questions, so she continued.
“Do you know why Granston asked you to speak with Mr. Adair?”
“Yes,” she said, distracted. “I overheard what the three of you were discussing.”
“What part?”
“About the bruises on her ladyship’s throat.”
“Do you recall fastening a necklace about Lady Winthrop’s throat the morning of her death?”
Lowering her gaze, the lady’s maid bit her trembling lips. “My mistress was a good person.”
“Of course, she was.” Charlotte rubbed soothing circles on Alice’s upper back.
“The baron has changed so much in the last several years.” She peered up at Charlotte. “You might have noticed the smell.”
Indeed, she had. How anyone could stand to live under Winthrop’s roof was beyond Charlotte. Her nostrils had not stopped burning since she entered this house.”
Charlotte sent the maid a knowing smile. “How else has his lordship changed?”
Alice flicked a glance toward Cameron and Blackburne. She lowered her voice. “Even in the early days of their marriage, his lordship would rush back to his bedchamber after being intimate with his wife. His valet would always have a tub of hot water available for the baron to cleanse away the ‘feminine filth,’ as he called it. After carrying two babes in the womb but having them taken by the Lord, it became evident my mistress would not bear a child, so his lordship’s marital visits stopped. A great relief to them both.”
“I should say so.”
“But the loneliness near drove my mistress mad. She loved people and music and plays and riding in the park. Everything, really.”
“Is that when she began her patronage of the Augusta Theatre?”
Alice’s face brightened a little. “They loved her there, and she became more her old self under their attention.”
An uncomfortable knot of unease formed low in Charlotte’s stomach.
Thankfully, Cameron picked that moment to chime in, because she didn’t know if her voice would work.
“How did Lord Winthrop respond to her friendships at the theater?”
“Not well, sir. They argued something fierce every time she announced her intent to go to the there.” Alice shook her head. “His lordship’s reaction made no sense. He wanted nothing to do with her, yet he would not allow anyone else in her life.”
From experience, Charlotte knew how fragile and volatile male pride could be. Add a dose of instability or a compulsive nature to the mix, and one could witness any number of rash actions.
“The necklace your mistress wore the day of her murder.” Blackburne paused long enough for the maid to nod in confirmation. “What did it look like?”
“A long, sturdy gold chain carrying a locket in the shape of a heart. The heart had a small diamond in the center.”
“Where did she come by this piece of jewelry?”
“I’m not sure. She came home with it one night and made me promise never to speak of it.” Alice swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t have now, but Mr. Granston said I could trust Mr. Adair and that if I knew anything to help find her ladyship’s killer, I should share it with him.” Her eyes widened in horror as she met Cameron’s gaze. “But Mr. Granston didn’t say anything about these other two.”
“It’s all right, Alice,” Cameron said. “Mrs. Fielding and Mr. Blackburne are my friends and want to find your mistress’s killer as much as I.”
Alice all but wilted with relief. “Good. That’s good.”
“How did Lady Winthrop seem when she came home with her secret necklace?” Cameron asked.
“More happy than I had seen her in a long, long time.”
“Where had she been the first evening she brought the necklace home?” Blackburne asked. “How long ago did this happen?”
“About a fortnight ago, I believe, and she had attended a play at the Augusta.”
Charlotte shared a look with first Cameron, then Joseph. “Did she ever give any indication as to who gave her the necklace?”
“She never spoke a name.”
The maid’s expression grew pensive, and Charlotte thought she caught a glimpse of hurt.
“Earlier, you mentioned that you and Lady Winthrop were close. Do you know why she kept this particular secret from you?”
“I’ve been mulling over that question a lot, especially after her ladyship’s death. She might have confided in Lady Bentondorf instead.”
“No,” Cameron said. “I spoke to the viscountess on Monday. After a bit of coaxing, she admitted to believing her friend had been engaged in some scandalous, illicit behavior that made her exceedingly happy. But she could tell me nothing specific.”
“Oh.” Alice’s gaze shifted worriedly, as though former images and conversations converged on her faster than she could decipher. Perhaps struggling with the confirmation that her mistress had taken a lover?
“What’s bothering you, Alice?”
“I’m not sure,” the maid admitted. “If my mistress didn’t share the details of her admirer with Lady Bentondorf or me, she must have been concerned we would not have approved.”
“Lady Bentondorf did mention she thought her friend was ‘unconventional,’” Cameron said.
“An actor, or someone equally below her social ranking?” Blackburne offered.
“No.” Alice shook her head. “Her secrecy had to have been for a far more wicked reason than class difference. But I can’t think what.”
Charlotte squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Put it out of your head for now, Alice. Perhaps something will come to you after you’ve given the subject a rest for a while.”
“I will try, ma’am.”
Blackburne held out a card to the maid. “Should you think of a reason, send word to my office.”
She accepted the card with trembling fingers. “Yes, sir.”
To Cameron, he said, “I would like to hear more about what Lady Bentondorf—and anyone else you’ve had an opportunity to interview—had to say.”
“I have a meeting after this. Would tomorrow morning suit?”
“Of course.” Blackburne shifted his attention to Charlotte. “My meeting with Lord Winthrop shouldn’t take long. Will you wait, or do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“I should get back to the shop.”
To Cameron, Blackburne said, “You’ll see Charlotte home?”
“Of course.”
Blackburne smiled at Charlotte. “You did well today. May I lean on you again in the future, should the n
eed arise?”
“I’m honored you think so. Please, call on me anytime.”
Blackburne took his leave, as did Alice.
“Wait for me here,” Cameron said to Charlotte. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He hurried to intercept the maid, and then guided her farther along the corridor, speaking in low tones near the young woman’s ear.
Charlotte experienced a stab of something unpleasant in the center of her chest. The pain increased when she saw him slip a small object into Alice’s hand. She whirled away, unable to bear the scene any longer.
Although she had done well not to dwell upon all the women Cameron had surely bedded in her absence these last few years, seeing him so cozy with the maid brought back all those ugly thoughts to the surface. By the time Cameron’s strong fingers curled around her to support her arm, she had already started on the last flight of stairs.
“Where are you running off to?” he asked.
“I’m not running anywhere. I was attempting to give you some privacy.”
“Privacy?” The area between his eyes folded together in confusion. Then his gaze strayed up the stairs before returning to her face.
He would not find the answers he sought. Charlotte made sure her features revealed none of the chaos churning within.
Even so, his too-tempting mouth stretched into a slow, knowing grin. “Did you think I was arranging an assignation with the pretty lady’s maid?”
Heat sprayed up her throat like a great wave engulfing a rocky beach. Before it could reach her cheeks, she continued her descent to the ground floor. “I’ve no notion what you were doing with Alice, nor do I care.” She increased her speed. “It’s growing late, and I still have much to do at the shop.”
“I’ll need to return tomorrow to speak with his lordship. Would you like to accompany me?”
Holding on to the balustrade, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t see why.”
“Considering what you and your coroner friend discovered, I now have a few follow-up questions.”
“Careful, Cameron. One might get the impression you’re jealous of my gentleman friends.”
Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1) Page 18
