Calamity Under the Chandelier

by Camilla Blythe

  A figure whose hair looked very much like Edmund’s.

  “Is that the duke?” Cora asked, her voice wobbling.

  A smile flickered on Lady Audrey’s face. “Oh, yes.”

  Cora stepped away from the window.

  It seemed odd that he’d followed them here.

  If there was just something that he needed them to be informed of, surely he could have sent word to them without physically stopping by.

  There were advantages to being a duke after all.

  A chill went through Cora.

  Veronica had never liked the relationship between Lady Audrey and her husband. She said they’d been far too close, even as children.

  Edmund was handsome in his way.

  Did he perhaps really love Lady Audrey after all? Or had they simply been working together to ensure he received his full inheritance?

  I shouldn’t be here.

  Horror rushed through Cora. he was all alone in a strange place. No one knew she was here.

  Lady Audrey slipped down the stairs to greet Edmund, and Cora peered out the window.

  They were leaning far too close. Almost as if they were—kissing.

  Who would have better access to Veronica’s gramophone than the duke?

  Who else would be able to know about the record she’d brought of the radio play?

  Why, they’d even played the radio play on the BBC—perhaps the duke had heard the lengthy scream on that. Heavens, perhaps Lady Audrey had.

  All Cora had achieved by coming here was informing Lady Audrey that she knew about the record.

  And now she’d seen Edmund.

  They’d killed twice before.

  Why would they hesitate to kill a third time?

  Cora tried to remain nonchalant when footsteps approached her.

  If they thought she didn’t suspect them, perhaps they could let her get away.

  If only Randolph were with her.

  If only she hadn’t been so horribly wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  CORA DASHED ACROSS the drawing room and settled onto the sofa. She grabbed hold of the tea and did her best to feign innocence.

  Footsteps approached, and her heartbeat quickened. She focused on the dove blue painted walls and long white curtains that seemed to embody calm. The portraits of pastel-wearing women that hung on the walls, presumably of Lady Audrey’s ancestors, seemed to be of people who’d never read about an unpleasant occurrence, much less commit murder.

  “Hello.” Cora forced her voice to sound casual. “Tea?”

  “Lady Audrey told me you found a certain record,” Edmund said.

  “So I did. A mystery. It was—er—most entertaining.”

  “And why did you choose to listen to that?”

  Cora attempted to shrug casually. “I wanted something diverting. Music can be so tiring after a while.”

  “Don’t waste my time,” Edmund said. “You know Audrey and I were behind the recent murders. You know we used the gramophone to give me an alibi.”

  Cora set down her teacup. Lady Audrey had told Edmund everything.

  Fear prickled every nerve in her body. What was he going to do to her? Stab her and then shove her body in one of these chimneys?

  “You wanted your inheritance,” Cora said.

  He scoffed. “It wasn’t just about the money. But I’m a duke now. It’s a very splendid thing.”

  “He was your father,” Cora exclaimed. “How could you have murdered him?”

  Edmund laughed. “You are really too sentimental. You would think you would be somewhat more hardened. Still believing those Victorian fantasies generated by authors decades ago.” He snorted. “My father was nothing to me. His health was holding me back. He could have lived for twenty more years, frail, pitiful, threatening to cut me off at any moment.”

  “He was going to see the solicitor next month,” Cora said.

  “He told me. Foolish man.”

  “So you murdered him,” Cora said. “And you used Veronica’s gramophone to confuse the time of death.”

  “Yes,” Edmund said. “I thought that was quite a clever touch. She’d told me the name of the radio show, and that she was listening to the record. As if I was interested in it. But when I decided to murder him...well, it seemed like a good idea in case the accident idea wasn’t believed. If they suspected anyone, it would be her. Once they found out about her pitiful childhood. Father told me all about it.”

  “Quite revolting,” Lady Audrey sniffed. “It’s a wonder she was allowed to become a star. There are higher standards in England, thank goodness. I wouldn’t mind seeing her hang. It was a mistake for darling Edmund to marry her. If only he’d listened to everyone. But we can rectify things now. We can marry. Just how it’s supposed to be.”

  Edmund swept into a bow and kissed her hand. “Yes, darling.”

  His eyes though were lifeless, and Cora shivered.

  She doubted he cared for Lady Audrey either.

  She doubted his regard extended to anyone besides himself.

  “Why did you kill the maid?” Cora asked.

  “She discovered Edmund and me in bed together one morning before Veronica and you arrived. If she told someone else... If she used her mind...”

  Oh.

  Gladys had mentioned that Lady Audrey had given her information about the murder. She must have visited Lady Audrey’s room. The maids split which rooms they attended, but Gladys must have served Lady Audrey. And of course, she would have noticed if Edmund had been there one morning but known she wasn’t supposed to share that information.

  That was the gossip Gladys had been unsure whether to share with Veronica.

  One shouldn’t speak poorly of one’s employer. Servants were trusted to be discreet. No wonder she had been so torn.

  “After I left the library, I heard her talk with you. Thank goodness Wexley chased her away. It was easy to send her on an errand upstairs and then kill her.”

  “And why did you leave her in my room?”

  “Well. I would have liked another location. No one would believe you desired to kill your maid. She was a horrible one, but you hadn’t known her long. But I knew you were occupied downstairs, and you wouldn’t even know something was wrong when you didn’t see her in the evening.”

  “And why did you use the strap from Mr. Hall’s camera?”

  “I thought that was a nice touch,” Lady Audrey said. “Personally I think anyone entering a house in a blizzard is suspicious, especially when they have the gall to begin questioning people. I didn’t expect you to actually accuse him of murder. We couldn’t believe our luck.”

  Edmund grinned. “I wonder how we should murder you.”

  Cora’s heartbeat raced. “Y-you can’t do that.”

  “I assure you we can.” Lady Audrey’s eyes flickered. “Two bodies in two days. Nobody suspected us. You even suspected your own friend and your-would-be lover, rather than us.”

  “I suspected you. I suspected everyone!”

  But Lady Audrey was correct. Cora had been so determined to see justice fulfilled that she’d stopped following her instincts. She’d stopped trusting in general. Her job had been snatched away, and she had been uncertain about anything, not knowing what to believe of absolutely anyone.

  “If there’s a third death, on your estate this time, I’m sure more attention will be drawn to you, especially since you are not with the others,” Cora said. “They might even suspect you.”

  “Stop talking,” Edmund grumbled. His wrist wobbled as he raked his hand through his hair. “My head hurts.”

  Cora didn’t feel sorry for him, no matter how stressful a task Edmund found murder to be. Surely, any concept of good and evil one had been taught during one’s life might cause one to waver. Edmund knew murder was wrong. Most likely the prospect of a noose coming down on his throat if he left too blatant a clue accidentally for someone to find was similarly nerve-wracking.

  “Let’s take the sleig
h.” Lady Audrey pulled Cora up and ushered her from the splendor of the manor house to the frigid winter air. “Get inside.”

  Cora climbed into the sleigh, and it soon moved over the snow. The horses’ bells jingled merrily, uncaring that they might as well be taking her to the underworld. Their manes still glistened, and the world was still beautiful.

  The sleigh rushed toward the manor house, and the turrets came into view. Where was a stone for the sleigh to get stuck on?

  But there was nothing.

  Had Edmund and Lady Audrey been evil all their lives, or had the temptation to kill simply overwhelmed them?

  Had Edmund desired to become a duke so badly? Had the prospect of all the money, all the magazines that would praise him for his attractiveness and his kindheartedness simply for giving the occasional charitable donation and cutting ribbons on buildings that would bear his name, overwhelmed him and compelled him to hasten his father’s death?

  Cora tried to think.

  What would she have done in the Gal Detective films?

  In movies, the victim tried to always keep the murderer speaking until help arrived.

  I might not survive.

  Her heart leaped unevenly in her chest, and she swallowed hard, as if the action might force the panic down.

  “I don’t understand,” Cora said, striving to keep her voice calm. “Why would you have killed your own father?”

  Edmund waved his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “He was your own flesh and blood.”

  “Americans, for all their boast of power, seem remarkably prone to provincialism and excessive sentiment.” Edmund assessed her, and Cora tried to find something in his face that would explain his actions, but he appeared every bit as good-natured and mild-mannered as before. “Look, he never wanted to be a father. It was his duty, and he delayed it to the ripe old age of forty.”

  “So your father may not have had longstanding paternal instincts.”

  “No,” Edmund said. “He didn’t have any paternal instincts.”

  “That’s not a reason to kill him.”

  “Signor Palombi was there. He was my mother’s lover. He was going to tell the duke that I’m his child. That I’m a bastard and cannot inherit from him!”

  Cora blinked. “I don’t think that was Signor Palombi’s intention. Why did you think Signor Palombi was your father? Did your mother tell you that?”

  “No,” Edmund said. “But it’s obvious. Rhys resembled the duke much more than I ever did.”

  “Your father was still a person,” she said, struggling to understand why Edmund had taken his life. “Perhaps you didn’t like him, but how could you murder him?”

  Lady Audrey grinned. “We live in the countryside. We’ve been shooting rabbits and foxes since we were little. A bit of blood doesn’t befuddle us.”

  “The man was poised to destroy my life,” Edmund grumbled. “Why can’t you see that I had to kill him?”

  His voice rose, like an irate toddler, and Lady Audrey stroked his shoulder.

  “You had to do it,” Lady Audrey said in a soothing tone, and Edmund relaxed under her administrations.

  “Why did you marry Veronica?” Cora asked abruptly.

  “You do have so many questions,” Lady Audrey said.

  “Who else are you going to tell? Perhaps it might help to talk about it.”

  “Lest it plague our dreams?” Edmund snorted. “Please, not all of us are followers of Viennese quacks.”

  Cora was silent.

  She was hardly a Freud enthusiast.

  She knew too little about him to have a strong opinion.

  But even if she were a devotee of the man who had recently inspired film directors to add nightmare sequences to their movies and have their camera dwell on strange symbols, she would not care if Edmund and Lady Audrey were plagued for the rest of their sleeping hours with sinister images of chandeliers and staircases.

  She had to believe that she could escape and that any knowledge from their confessions could lead to their conviction.

  Because if this really was to be the end of her life—and she abhorred to admit that it might be—she was not going to spend her last minutes alive devoid of hope.

  And after all, if she did escape, she needed to ensure they were not acquitted by a jury intimidated by Edmund’s and Lady Audrey’s lofty aristocratic background and perhaps confused why two people who seemed to have everything would end the lives of others with a casual cruelty that others confined to squashing insects.

  “I thought people would be impressed that I’d married a star,” Edmund said stiffly. “But people weren’t impressed. They were appalled she was American and didn’t know anyone in British high society. They said she’d caught me, instead of the other way around.”

  A wave of irritation swept through Cora. “You did make a good catch. Veronica is Hollywood royalty. She’s clever and talented and beautiful and—”

  Lady Audrey’s face whitened. “Don’t pay attention to her,” she said to Edmund. “She’s Veronica’s best friend. Naturally she would be biased.”

  Edmund nodded uneasily.

  Cora was struck by how weak Edmund was, how easily swayed.

  Was that the personality that the late duke despised? Had Lady Audrey used him for her purposes, ensuring that he would inherit a dukedom and abandon his wife in order for her to become a duchess?

  “Why did you help him?” Cora asked Lady Audrey.

  Lady Audrey closed her eyes. Snowflakes fell onto her lashes. The pristine color seemed at odds with an imagination that had plotted two deaths and likely had already construed a premature end for Cora herself.

  “Love,” Lady Audrey said simply. She smirked. “But you wouldn’t understand. You accused your love interest of murder and had him locked in a tower.”

  Edmund chuckled. “We didn’t expect that. That was good news for us.”

  Lady Audrey joined his laughter, and for a moment, they seemed every bit as doting as any couple, one whose conversations were devoted to news items and pleasantries from their days, rather than carrying out vile murders during the time in which they were not in each other’s arms.

  “I wasn’t the only person who suspected him,” Cora huffed. “He was suspicious. And he’s not my love interest.”

  “You mean, you haven’t bedded him yet?” Lady Audrey gave a languid stretch. “How delightfully dull. I was under the impression that American prudishness was a Midwestern phenomenon and didn’t stretch to the Pacific. But I suppose Los Angeles is small compared to cosmopolitan London.”

  Cora pressed her lips together. “Don’t insult Los Angeles.”

  Lady Audrey and Edmund chuckled.

  “Well, it was a trifle inconvenient that you crowned Randolph the murderer,” Lady Audrey said. “That honor was supposed to belong to Veronica.”

  “That’s why you used her gramophone and record,” Cora said.

  Veronica had been right. She would have been accused.

  “A divorce is less scandal inducing than a hanging, even if it is generally more expensive,” Edmund said.

  “You would go through a divorce?” Cora asked. “That hardly seems proper.”

  “People will laud his good sense,” Lady Audrey said quickly, shooting Cora a warning glance. “Besides, most likely Edmund will be able to get an annulment. The late duke did the most helpful research into that process before we killed him.”

  “So what do you mean to do?” Cora asked. “Tie me up to a tree?”

  “No.” Lady Audrey’s eyes flashed. “The moat is frozen—but not entirely. And everyone knows your inaptitude at winter activity. Your attempt to ski was pitiful.”

  She gave a cruel laugh, and Cora bristled.

  “A not-too-clever American,” Lady Audrey said, “might be confused. She might think she could cut across the moat. It would be tragic. But not impossible.”

  “They wouldn’t think that,” Cora said.

&nb
sp; But she knew in her heart that they would.

  She’d seen the moat.

  If they threw her into a hole in the ice... She shivered. She was already cold. And to be plunged into icy water, struggling to get back out. Her heart tightened.

  “Somebody may witness it,” Cora said.

  “I doubt it. They were eager to leave. And if anyone sees anything, they’ll think we were trying to rescue you.”

  “You can confess,” Cora said. “You might go to jail...”

  “We would hang,” Edmund said. “No, I assure you. We will certainly not confess to anything. We can bear the brunt of any guilt.”

  “I assure you we won’t feel much,” Lady Audrey said. “You needn’t comfort yourself by imagining us tortured for the rest of our lives. We’ll have money and lovely titles.”

  “How can you be with this man who just murders people?” Cora asked.

  Lady Audrey laughed. “They were my ideas.”

  Edmund squeezed her hand.

  “My advice has become more complicated since the duke asked me for help as a child on how to build a tree house, but I still provide it,” Lady Audrey said.

  “My darling,” Edmund said, and Cora’s stomach tensed.

  The castle turrets were in view.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  EDMUND HALTED THE SLEIGH and tied the horses to a tree.

  “Come on, Miss Clarke,” Lady Audrey said. “We’re going on a walk. Enjoy the pleasant view. It will be the last thing you see.”

  Randolph.

  Randolph was locked in the manor house.

  His room should overlook them. He was locked in...but the place did have windows. Could he climb out?

  Cora told herself she was being ridiculous.

  Of course he couldn’t help her.

  “Randolph!” Cora shouted, unwilling to give up, as they neared the manor house.

  “Be quiet.” Lady Audrey slapped her. Her look was icy, as if striving to resemble the ice in the perilous moat. “I think it’s time for your fall.”

  Sharp wind swept over Cora. She was wearing a coat and she was already freezing.

  Perhaps she could run.

  Yes.

  She could run.

  There were two of them, but she would have to try. She jumped from the sleigh and into the snow. Her legs burned, and her feet slid on the slick ground.