She saw a parlor maid bustling down the hall and rushed up to her. "Have you seen Lord Brayleigh?" she demanded. "Hurry, it is very important."
The girl stared at her and blinked. Rowena tried to calm herself, imagining that she must look rather wild.
"Lord Brayleigh," she repeated. "Where is he?"
"I saw him in the billiard room, my lady," said the maid.
"Thank you." Rowena turned and flew down the hall, leaving the maid staring after her in amazement.
Rowena burst into the billiard room, flinging the door wide in front of her. Alaric stood behind the table, dressed in immaculate afternoon dress, a queue balanced lightly between his fingers as he surveyed the table. She drew in a breath of relief. The mere sight of him made her feel more confident.
"Alaric. Alaric, I must speak to you. It is very important."
Alaric looked up to see Rowena standing in the doorway, surprise and alarm in her wide violet eyes.
"Alaric, it is not who we think," she said hastily. "It is--"
She broke off at the warning look on Alaric's face and turned to see who else was in the room. Charles stood on the other side of the billiard table, looking at her with astonishment. She realized abruptly how odd she must look, bursting into the room and speaking so urgently. She managed a tiny laugh.
"Oh, Charles. I didn't know you were here. I...had something to tell Alaric, but it is of little importance."
Charles looked from her astonished face to Alaric's, which was covered by a heavy frown. He raised an eyebrow.
"Have I stumbled onto a mystery?" he asked lightly.
"No, of course not," said Rowena. "I am sorry if I seem alarmed. Perhaps what happened this morning upset me more than I thought it did. I seem to be ridiculously on edge."
Alaric came over to her and took her arm gently in his hand. He squeezed it slightly.
"You should return to your room, Rowena. I told you that it was far too early for you to be up and about. You received a serious shock to your system. You must give it time to mend."
"But Alaric, I need to speak to you. Perhaps you could come with me?" Rowena gazed anxiously up at him. It was urgent that she tell him of her suspicions now. Charles might very well be dangerous. He had tried to dispose of Alaric once already, and now they were alone together.
"Later, my dear," said Alaric soothingly. "I must finish my game with Charles. I will come up to your room when I am done."
"But Alaric--"
"Rowena, you are becoming hysterical. Go to your room and lie down. We will discuss this later." Alaric's fingers bit into her arm and her eyes widened as he gazed down at her, an intense gleam in his emerald eyes.
"Oh," she gasped. She took a deep breath. Alaric obviously did not wish to speak to her now, and though she couldn't imagine what it might be, she was sure he was trying to convey something to her. "Very well. I will wait for you upstairs."
Rowena swung away from him and left the room, leaving Charles staring after her in bewilderment. She ran towards the wide, curving staircase, carved with clumsy gargoyles, but hesitated before going up. Malcolm, she thought. Malcolm would surely want to know about this, and perhaps he could help her hatch a plan to catch Charles while they were waiting for Alaric. Time was of the essence. And at least he could keep her company as she waited. She thought she might go mad, keeping this information to herself.
She turned and hurried out of the house, running to the stables as quickly as she could. A groom standing in the door looked at her in surprise, for she was not dressed for riding and her manner was extremely agitated.
"Lord Brayleigh's groom," she demanded. "Where is he?"
The young man gestured towards the stalls, and Rowena hurried away. She gave a sob of relief when she saw Malcolm's head above a wall, his blonde hair covered by the thick brown wig.
"Malcolm," she said urgently.
Malcolm looked up. "Oh, it's you Rowena! Come take a look at this horse. She's quite marvelous. I didn't think a blowhard like Sir Peter would have taste in horseflesh like this. I'll have to try to buy her from him. She's first-rate and I mean to rebuild Wroxton's stables. I'm sure Father let them fall apart after I left. He never did have much interest in bloodstock."
Rowena gave the horse an impatient glance. "She is very pretty, Malcolm--" she said.
"I think so too," interrupted Malcolm. "And sound in the wind, I'm sure. Do you think Sir Peter will part with her?"
"I don't know. That isn't why I came here." Rowena looked at him impatiently.
"Of course not. You have excellent stables already. Brayleigh always had excellent cattle. But it will be quite a job for me. I have to begin as soon as I can."
Rowena lost her patience. "Malcolm, will you please listen to me!"
Malcolm tore his eyes from the mare at her abrupt tone. "Well, and haven't I been listening to you? You said you liked the horse."
"But I didn't come here to talk about it. Malcolm, this is very important."
"Well, then what is it? You say you have something important to tell me and then you start talking about horses. It doesn't make any sense."
Rowena took a deep breath. "Malcolm, I know who killed Alfred Ingram."
"So do I," said Malcolm. "We all agreed it had to be Marguerite."
"But it isn't!" Rowena clasped her hands together. "I talked to her this afternoon. She didn't say anything to implicate herself, but as she told me the story I realized who the killer really was. There was another person who was there every step of the way, who actually told Alaric that you were going to see Ingram. He was there just after the murder as well, and he had an excellent motive for wishing to see Alaric convicted, or forced to flee England."
"Who is it?" asked Malcolm peevishly. "Don't make me guess, Rowena. I'm not interested in games."
"Charles Montfort. Alaric's cousin. If Alaric were found guilty, he would have the Brayleigh fortune." Rowena almost jumped up and down with excitement.
"Charles? Why, he's a friend of mine." Malcolm looked very annoyed. "How could he let this happen? If he wanted to see Brayleigh disgraced, it doesn't matter to me, but why did he have to get me involved?"
"He didn't mean to," Rowena pointed out.
"Well, he might have said something," said Malcolm. "I'm going to have to talk to him about this."
Without another word Malcolm turned and strode out of the stables. Rowena ran after him, anxious to avert disaster. She wished fervently that she hadn't allowed her impulse to share her discovery to override Alaric's advice to return to her room.
"Malcolm, you mustn't say anything now. We have to let Alaric know."
"I can handle this myself, Rowena. He might have been trying to blame Brayleigh for the murder, but I'm the one that's suffered all these years. I plan to ask him what he means by it."
"But you can't simply confront him," argued Rowena frantically. "We need to tell Alaric about this. We need a plan."
"I have a plan," said Malcolm. "I'm going to bash his face in."
Rowena seized her brother's arm and pulled on it until he stopped and looked down at her impatiently.
"What is it, Rowena?"
"Malcolm, you must listen to me. We have to tell Alaric about this. We can't simply take Charles on alone. If you are caught, you will still be accused of murder. We have no proof, you know."
"Well, I'm not going to hang about those stables any longer, it's damned dull," said Malcolm flatly. "I have no way of finding out what's going on. And if Charles came down there I'd probably not be able to stop myself from hitting him."
Rowena looked up into his furious face and realized that he spoke the truth. Malcolm was far too angry to be left alone.
"Then you'll have to stay with me," she said hesitantly.
"Famous," said Malcolm. "But you can't exactly take your groom into the parlor, can you? Lady Brandfon might be shocked."
Rowena bit her lip. "You'll have to come to my room. I promised Alaric I'd stay there. I'm sure there
must be a way to smuggle you up there."
Malcolm laughed at that. "And you thought meeting me in the garden last night was scandalous. If the servants see this, the gossip will never die down."
"Then we shall have to be very careful," said Rowena crossly. "But I don't think I should let you out of my sight. You're behaving very irrationally."
"I'm behaving irrationally?" said Malcolm. "I like that. Which one of us came running down to the stables like there was a banshee behind her? If anyone saw you earlier, I'm sure they'll have some stories to tell."
Rowena made a face at him. "Come on," she snapped. She realized that she had behaved foolishly, and now would have to keep a close eye on Malcolm or he was likely to go off and try to tackle Charles on his own, which was a risk they couldn't take. If he was caught, it was unlikely that his life would be spared a second time.
Chapter 38
They approached the house together, and Rowena looked at it thoughtfully. "I can hardly walk you through the hallways. Someone is bound to see us. But my room is there, on the second floor. Do you think you could climb up that vine to it?"
Malcolm eyed the trellis thoughtfully. "I'm not saying I can't," he offered. "But what if someone saw me out here? That wouldn't look good."
"Everyone should be resting," said Rowena. "Alaric and Charles are in the billiard room, which is in the other wing. There's no one about to see you."
"Except the servants," said Malcolm. He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. Get inside and open the window because I'll be dashed if I hang around out here longer than I have to."
Rowena nodded and turned towards the house. She looked back over her shoulder at her brother.
"Promise me you'll stay right here until I open the window," she said severely. "I can't have you running off to look for Charles."
Malcolm laughed shortly. "I'll wait. I can't promise you what will happen if he comes across me though. So you'd better hurry, little sister."
Rowena frowned at him reproachfully and ran up to the house, letting herself in through the French doors in the library. She raced through the room and into the main hallway, tearing past the same confused parlor maid she had seen only minutes before. She hitched up her skirts in a most unladylike fashion and ran up the stairs, relieved that no one else seemed to be about. At the top of the stairs, she turned towards her room.
"Where are you going in such a hurry, Lady Brayleigh?"
Rowena froze at the sound of the musical voice. She turned around and found Marguerite gazing at her with some amusement.
"I need to lie down," she murmured. "I don't feel very well."
"Ah, the truth about your husband was upsetting," Marguerite said softly. "I can see how that might affect you. What plans do you have for your future?"
"I don't know," replied Rowena impatiently. Now that she was certain that Charles was the murderer, she had no use for Lady Bingham and her tiresome insinuations. "I will have to think about it."
"Do that," said Marguerite. "And remember, a man like Alaric won't be faithful to a woman as unsophisticated you. He needs someone who will fit into his world. Someone with tastes like his own."
"Someone like you?" asked Rowena, amazed at the woman's gall.
"Perhaps," answered Marguerite.
"Tell me, Lady Bingham. Why would you wish to marry a murderer?" Rowena was honestly fascinated by the way Marguerite's mind worked.
"Alaric and I understand one another. I would like to be a countess, and Alaric's title is ancient and respectable. Poor Bingham's father was a merchant, you know, who bought his title. The smell of the shop still clings to it. Alaric has need of a wife who will not...get in the way. It would be a most suitable marriage."
"You mean you would get what you want out of it," said Rowena. "You mean to use Alaric for your own gain."
Marguerite shrugged. "What else is marriage but a means to an end? I wish for respectability, he wishes for a child and to be left alone."
Rowena gave her a pitying glance. "You will know my plans soon enough, Lady Bingham. Good afternoon."
She turned her back on Marguerite, dismissing the woman from her thoughts. Malcolm had been standing outside the house for some minutes now, and she could only hope he hadn't been seen. She rushed into her room and flung the window open, hastily scanning the lawn. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen.
"It's about time you made it upstairs," came an aggravated voice. "I've been hanging from this vine for five minutes. What happened to you?"
Rowena looked down into Malcolm's annoyed and sweaty face. He was clinging to the side of the Abbey, his displeasure obvious.
"What are you doing up here already?" she demanded.
"I thought all you were going to do was go upstairs, so I decided to save some time and begin climbing. How was I to know you'd take forever?"
"I ran into Lady Bingham," said Rowena shortly. "I was forced to speak to her."
"And how is Marguerite?" asked Malcolm, hoisting himself up on the windowsill.
"As malicious as ever. She actually thinks that I will leave Alaric and that he will get a divorce and marry her. The woman is incorrigible."
Malcolm grinned as he eased himself through the window. "She's got spirit, you have to admit. Can't say she doesn't put her heart into things."
Rowena stared at him. "Do you mean to tell me you actually admire her?"
Malcolm shrugged. "Well, I have to allow that she can take care of herself. You've got to respect that. I spent quite a while with her, you know. Can't say it was comfortable, but we had fun." He sauntered over to her dressing table, where he began to inspect the baubles that lay there. "This is a mighty fine bracelet. Brayleigh must be besotted with you, Rowena. I don't remember him ever giving Marguerite anything so fine."
Rowena snatched the bracelet out of his hand. "I'll thank you not to compare me to Lady Bingham," she said sharply. "Really, Malcolm. You can be so tiresome."
"It's a pity I wasn't around when you were growing up," observed Malcolm. "I would have made sure you didn't turn out so prim. You'd think I had insulted you."
"I'm not prim simply because I don't appreciate you comparing my jewels to those of my husband's former mistress," said Rowena sharply. "And if you weren't around when I was a child, that's hardly my fault."
"No, it's Charles Montfort's." Malcolm rubbed his chin. "I'd love to have my hands around his lying throat. Can't say I'm sorry to hear that it wasn't Marguerite, though. Wouldn't like to think of her being hung. That would be a waste."
"Will you stop talking about her?" demanded Rowena. "I swear I am sick of the sound of her name."
Malcolm snorted. "It's not as though I brought her up," he protested.
"You certainly did," countered Rowena. "And you will not stop talking about her. I will scream."
The door to the bedroom swung open and Alaric stepped into the room, hastily shutting it behind him when he saw who was present. He took in with one glance Malcolm and Rowena glaring at one another, and sighed heavily.
"I suppose it's useless to ask why you are here, Wroxton," he said. "Something tells me the answer would make no sense."
Rowena flew to him, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He hesitated a moment and then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
"Oh, Alaric, I am so glad you are here. Malcolm is being totally unreasonable."
Alaric squeezed her gently before setting her away from him. "A fight between brother and sister? What is the problem here?"
"I only said that Marguerite was a damn fine woman," said Malcolm sulkily. "And Rowena flew into a tantrum. I don't understand women, Brayleigh."
Alaric sighed again. "Why were you discussing Marguerite?"
"I saw her in the hall," said Rowena. "Would you believe that she expects me to divorce you so that she can be your wife?"
"I feel sure that you will never allow that to happen," said Alaric. "So we don't need to worry about it."
Rowena fold
ed her arms over her chest. "I don't see why Malcolm has to say nice things about her," she pouted.
"I'll say what I want," objected Malcolm. "How do you put up with her, Brayleigh?"
"It is a trial," said Alaric with a slow smile. He glanced from brother to sister. "Malcolm, did you come up here only to argue with Rowena about Marguerite?"
Rowena started as she was recalled to their true objective. "No, of course not. When you were busy, I went to find Malcolm. I had to tell someone. Alaric, it was not Lady Bingham who killed Alfred Ingram."
"So you've teased that out," said Alaric slowly. "I was afraid you might."
Rowena gaped at him. "You know it wasn't Lady Bingham?"
"I never thought it was. Marguerite's a malicious troublemaker, but she's hardly likely to resort to violence. She's far too devious for that." Alaric stared thoughtfully at Rowena. "Who do you think the killer is, Rowena?"
"When Marguerite told me her story, I realized how involved in the matter of Ingram's death Charles was," she said eagerly. "It was your cousin who told you of Malcolm's planned trip to see Ingram, and he was present shortly after the body was discovered. And he had the most to gain, Alaric. He's always in debt, and he is soon to be married. He would dearly love to have your fortune and title."
Alaric nodded slowly. "I underestimated you, my dear. My congratulations."
"You knew?" Rowena stared at him. "You knew and didn't tell me?"
"I thought the truth would only put you in greater danger. You and Malcolm are so impetuous, and Charles has already tried to kill you twice. If he thought you suspected him, he would become even more desperate."
Rowena paused. "It was Charles? Charles tried to kill me?"
"I am sure that he arranged for the carriage to run you down, and the shot today was delivered when he had fallen away from the rest of the group. I'm certain he fired it himself."
"Why would he want to kill me?" asked Rowena. "It's your title he wants."
That Infamous Pearl Page 32
