“I cannot bear to think of them searching the house for him, Maude.”
“Now, now, we must have courage.” Lady Wroxly’s pale hand closed around Lady Allerton’s plumper ones, and she helped the woman raise the glass to her lips. “Drink.”
When the marchioness bowed her head to obey, Lady Wroxly caught Eva’s gaze. She merely nodded, then repeated the gesture for Miss Shea. They set the vial and basin down and quietly left the room.
Miss Shea grumbled the entire way as they retraced their steps, but Eva paid her no attention. Downstairs, she met with a sight that stopped her cold.
Vernon, with his head down and his hands cuffed behind him, was being led down the service corridor by a grim-faced Constable Brannock. Sobs echoed from inside the servants’ hall. Eva didn’t have to peek in to know those whimpers came from Connie.
“Constable, please wait. I’d like to speak with Vernon.”
“What can you possibly have to say to a murderer?” Miss Shea brushed by her and disappeared into the valet’s service room.
“My assistant needs to bring the accused to the village, Miss Huntford.” The inspector’s raspy voice filled the stairwell behind her. He descended each riser with heavy footfalls and huffing breaths. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I merely wish to have a word with Vernon. Just for a moment.”
“That’s highly irregular. . . .”
“What can it hurt?”
Several faces filled the dining-hall doorway, and Mrs. Ellison and Dora poked their heads out from the kitchen. Murmurs reached Eva’s ears, comments ranging from disbelief to sympathy to, “Didn’t I tell you so?”
That last came from Miss Shea herself, who had joined Nick Hensley in peering out from the service room. For the briefest moment Eva wondered what tasks had brought Nick to that room, where he typically would have brushed his employer’s suits and polished his shoes. Then she remembered. With the marquess gone, his younger brother, Theodore, would take over the title, with all the privileges—and servants—that went along with it.
She waited until Inspector Perkins reached the bottom of the stairs. “I promise I won’t keep Constable Brannock waiting but a moment.”
“Sorry, it’s against regulation.”
He didn’t sound at all sorry. If she was going to get any kind of favor out of this man, she would have to make him believe it would be to his advantage. She steeled herself and thought quickly. “Inspector Perkins, Vernon trusts me. Perhaps I can . . . learn something important, something he wouldn’t readily tell you.”
The inspector regarded her, a pensive frown growing deeper with each laboring breath he drew. Then he nodded. “Hmm . . . you might at that. See if you can’t get him to confess, Miss Huntford. Make things easier on him, and on all of us. I should like to have this matter cleaned up by the New Year. A foul business, this.”
Eva bit back a cry of exasperation. It was as if the man were speaking of mucking out the stables. Dredging up her patience, she said, “May I speak with him alone . . . in Mr. Giles’s office?”
“Are there windows in that room?”
“Windows?” Did he think she might help Vernon escape? “The only windows are high up at ground level and too narrow for a man to fit through. Hardly convenient for making a getaway. Besides, you’ve got him handcuffed.”
“So we do. All right. A few minutes. And”—he leaned in closer, bringing the rancid odors of spirits and cigars to sting her nose—“do utilize all your feminine wiles to persuade him to confess. And to tell us what he did with the rest of the marquess.”
Eva fisted her hands and all but bit her tongue to keep from retorting. She thanked him, but before she moved away, he said, “Thank you, by the way, for your assistance with Miss Robson.”
“My assistance? I only provided her with a bit of moral support.”
He grinned and wagged a forefinger in the air. “So you did. Were it not for that, I fear we’d not have gotten a peep out of her. As it is, she rather neatly stitched up this case for me.”
“But, Inspector Perkins, nothing she said provided any proof of anything.”
“Didn’t it? She provided us with the motive.” He leaned closer still. Eva recoiled, but he seemed not to notice. “And she told us the footman himself hid the cleaver in his room. I may not be through with our Miss Robson, so see she doesn’t go running off. It’s highly likely she conspired with Mr. Vernon to rid herself of Lord Allerton’s unwanted attentions.”
Anger engulfed Eva. “I do not believe that.”
“Never mind. I’ll speak with Mrs. Sanders about keeping close watch on the girl.”
“Inspector Perkins, don’t. Please. Mrs. Sanders doesn’t know yet of the connection between Connie and Vernon. The moment she hears of it she’ll send Connie packing.”
“Is that my problem?”
Eva fisted her hands to stop her fingers trembling with rage. “It’s positively arctic outside. With nowhere to go, she’ll freeze to death. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“Relax, Miss Huntford. Lord Wroxly has no intentions of allowing the girl to be sacked. Yet. Besides, I need her here while I gather enough evidence against her to put her away. She won’t freeze to death in a jail cell, now will she?” With that he let go a nasty laugh and stalked away.
“That heartless man,” she murmured under her breath. “Justice will never be done with him in charge.”
Outside Mr. Giles’s office, Constable Brannock called after his employer. “Do you wish me go inside with them, sir?”
Eva held her breath. She wished to speak with Vernon alone.
The inspector gave a flick of his hand. “Just stand guard at the door. Did you remember to load your weapon this morning?”
Eva didn’t wait for the answer. Grasping Vernon by the upper arm, she walked him into the office and closed the door.
“Are you all right?”
He stared back as if she had taken leave of her senses.
“I mean . . . I don’t know what I mean. I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. What I mean is . . .” Again, she didn’t know how to continue, except to ask a blunt question. “Vernon . . . George . . . did you have anything to do with Lord Allerton’s disappearance?”
“Are you a policeman now, Miss Huntford?”
“No, but I simply don’t believe you’re guilty. You aren’t, are you?”
“What difference would it make either way?”
“It makes a world of difference! An innocent man must be exonerated.”
“And how do you propose to do that? I’ve already declared my innocence and told them what I know. I cooperated, and see where it got me.”
“Please sit.” She again grasped his upper arm and helped him keep his balance as he lowered himself onto the wooden-backed settee against the wall. She sat beside him. “It’s true I don’t believe you’re guilty. But I do think you tried to withhold certain information from the inspector, and that is why you’re in this position.”
He glowered at her from beneath his brows.
“You were trying to protect Connie.”
The scowl persisted, and he hesitated so long she didn’t think he would answer at all, but then he said, “None of this is her fault.”
“No, I agree. What can you tell me about the hours before Lord Allerton was discovered missing? We know you rose early to help Connie.”
“They think I murdered him to protect her.” He spoke with his head down, but now it swung upward, and louder he said, “And maybe I would have. Don’t think I didn’t consider it. Give the bugger exactly what he deserved—”
The door burst open and the inspector stopped short on the threshold, his chest heaving and his rotund belly bouncing. “Was that a confession?”
“No, Inspector Perkins, that was not. Please give us another moment.” It was all she could do to stop herself from chiding him for eavesdropping.
“Very well.” He stepped out and the constable reached
in to close the door.
She lowered her voice. “Now, then, while you were helping Connie with her chores, did you see the marquess at all?”
“No.”
“And what did you do once Connie’s chores were complete?”
He blew out a breath. “I hurried upstairs with the broken cleaver so I could take it to town later. I swear, Miss Huntford, that’s the only reason the cleaver was under that floorboard.”
“Oh, Vernon, I wish you’d told the constable about that in the first place. You should have spoken up as soon as Mrs. Ellison discovered the cleaver missing. Why did you keep silent then?”
“I never thought anyone would find it under the floorboard. It’s Boxing Day, and no one should have been working all afternoon. I’d already called down to the cutler in the village and he said he could change the handle this very day. Then I’d have sneaked it back into the kitchen this evening. That would have been the end of it. I didn’t think Mrs. Ellison would notice it missing today of all days.”
Tears filled his eyes. Eva pretended not to notice and hurried on. “All right, then. After you hid the cleaver, what did you do next?”
“I already told the inspector, Miss Huntford. I ate breakfast—you saw me in the dining hall—and afterward I went upstairs to bring in the hot water for Lord Theodore’s morning shave.”
“You were serving as his valet, weren’t you? Doesn’t he have his own?”
“No, Lord Theodore doesn’t keep a valet. The head footman at the Leightons’ estate serves him just as I’ve been doing here. Word has it he can’t afford a valet, and his brother wouldn’t increase his allowance for one.”
A marquess who denies his brother the luxury of a valet? Interesting. Eva stored that information away for later. “Did he speak to you at all while you shaved him?”
“Barely a word. He had a rough look about him, like he hadn’t slept much. Maybe like he’d been drinking, although there was no smell of spirits hanging about him. He’d sent me away that night, said he wouldn’t be needing my services. And in the morning—I told the inspector this—he hadn’t changed out of his clothes from the night before.”
Eva fell silent as she digested this information. Both Lord Allerton and his brother sent their valets away last night. If Lord Theodore hadn’t changed for bed, could it be because he never went to bed? Then where was he all night? With whom? Beneath her sturdy broadcloth sleeves, gooseflesh swept her arms.
“What did Inspector Perkins say when you told him this?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘If a toff wishes to sleep in his clothes, what’s it to me?’ ”
She felt a spark of outrage on Vernon’s behalf. “Did he not stop to consider—” She broke off, realizing that kind of rhetorical question wouldn’t solve a thing.
“He thinks I deserve to hang. Guilty or not.”
“Why would you say that? I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way. He’s merely trying to do his job . . .” She trailed off, wondering why she felt the need to defend an inspector who would arrest a man on such poor evidence.
Vernon shook his head. “It’s on account of my not having served in the war. He called me a shirker. Said I have no business demanding justice after being too cowardly to defend my country.”
Eva gasped. “He did not! Oh, Vernon, how awful. Didn’t you tell him about your medical exemption? Your heart, wasn’t it?”
“Irregular heartbeat, the doctors said.” He made a disgusted face. “I told him. He called it a convenient excuse. Said if my brother was fit enough to serve, I certainly should have been.”
“Oh, Vernon,” she repeated, not knowing what else to say. She understood Vernon’s grief, for like him she, too, had lost a brother. But she could not share in Vernon’s guilt at having seen his brother off to war when he himself could not go, only to discover that brother would never return.
So many men . . . so many boys.
A rap on the door came; then it opened. Constable Brannock poked his head in. “I’m afraid time is up. The inspector gave me the order to escort Mr. Vernon to the village.”
For one furious moment Eva wanted to seize Constable Brannock by the shoulders, shake him, and demand to know how he came through the war so utterly unscathed. But her anger receded as quickly as it had risen. For all she knew, Mr. Brannock, like Vernon, had some hidden physical defect that had kept him from the fighting, or some other hardship that had rendered him ineligible. Or perhaps he had fought after all. Some men—precious few—had somehow managed to escape injury.
How ironic that Lord Allerton had been one of those lucky few.
Sighing, she came to her feet and helped Vernon to his, a task made difficult by his wrists pinioned behind him. “This isn’t the end of the matter,” she told him, not caring if Constable Brannock heard or not. In fact, she hoped he did. She hoped he saw that others had faith in George Vernon and were not prepared to give him up to the gallows. The fact that she had little to base that faith on other than having observed the young man’s good character these past several years did not for a moment cause her to falter in her opinion.
Vernon hesitated before setting his feet in motion. “Please don’t do anything that will get Connie sacked.”
Eva touched his sleeve. “You care about her very much.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor and left with the constable.
CHAPTER 6
Through her dressing-table mirror, Phoebe watched Eva pin up her hair and affix the mother-of-pearl combs. Eva had already helped her into her dinner dress, a simply-draped chemise of sapphire silk with an overlay of satin netting that swirled about her ankles. Dinner would not be a sumptuous affair tonight, and Lady Allerton might not even descend from her room. Under the circumstances, and were Henry her son, Phoebe didn’t think she’d have much appetite either.
“Lady Allerton was splendidly brave about the whole thing, once she got over her faint,” Phoebe said.
“Yes, her ladyship is holding up most admirably, considering.”
“I wonder how poor Vernon is faring. Grampapa has arranged for meals to be brought to him. He can’t bring himself to believe Vernon is guilty either. I hope that helps make his confinement rather easier to bear.”
“I’m sure it will, my lady, both the meals and Lord Wroxly’s faith in him. Douglas brought his supper down about an hour ago. He should be back by now and ready to serve in the dining room, so I’ll ask how Vernon appeared to him.”
“Be sure to tell me what he says.” She reached into the jewelry cask Eva placed on the dressing table before her. “Something simple.” Her fingers lingered over a string of jet and vulcanite beads. “No, these would suggest mourning, and we aren’t yet certain of Lord Allerton’s fate. Mother’s scent bottle necklace, I think.” She selected a simple gold chain holding a tiny flask decorated with an art nouveau pattern of marcasite and amethyst stones.
“A good choice, my lady.” Eva slipped the necklace around Phoebe’s neck and fixed the clasp.
Through the mirror, her mother’s necklace glinted pinpoints of light. Phoebe sighed at her reflection. “It seems silly to be dressing for dinner at all. Even before Lord Allerton disappeared, I’d been thinking how stuck in the old ways we are here. The war changed so much. I’ve heard that in London girls go about alone, or accompanied by their beaux. They go to music clubs and the cinema and shopping all on their own, or with friends, without a chaperone in sight. And no one thinks anything of it.”
Eva let go a quiet laugh as she stepped back to inspect her handiwork on Phoebe’s hair. “I suspect there are many people thinking a great many things about what some young women are doing nowadays. And I equally suspect precious few of those young ladies hail from families such as yours, my lady.”
“Pish. Sometimes I wish Grampapa were a barrister or a physician, or even a baker.”
Eva laughed again. “I’m afraid we all have our crosses to bear, my lady.”
Phoebe joined in her laughter. Eva was quite c
orrect. It served no purpose to lament one’s lot in life, especially for someone as fortunate as she. Despite what she often perceived as restrictions or silly traditions, she knew hers was a privileged existence and she had no right complaining. Not when so many families across England struggled to scrape together the pieces of their lives, torn apart and scattered by the war.
And not when young men such as George Vernon made convenient suspects for crimes without a shred of evidence, merely because he lacked a fortune and pedigree.
She went to sit on the bed, leaning against one of the posts supporting the brocade and velvet canopy. “Come and sit, Eva. We need a plan to help Vernon.”
Eva hesitated before perching stiffly at the edge of the mattress. Phoebe hid a smile. No matter how familiar or friendly they often became, it was always Eva rather than she who maintained the invisible barrier between them. Another silly tradition, wherein one person could be seen as having been born superior to someone else. True enough that some people were stronger, faster, more clever, or more beautiful. That was nature at work. But to be better than others simply because one bears a title—what utter nonsense. Phoebe hoped such notions dissipated along with the lingering ashes of the war.
She absently fingered the chain looped around her neck. “I’ve been thinking about what Vernon told you concerning Lord Theodore. It’s odd, his having sent Vernon away when he retired, and then sleeping in his clothes. I’d like to know more about Lord Theodore’s whereabouts last night. I was up rather late myself, but I never saw him.”
“It could be nothing,” Eva pointed out with a shrug.
“Or it could be something. I wonder . . . Lord Allerton kept tight reins on the family’s money and often treated his younger brother like a poor relation. . . .”
“That reminds me of something else Vernon said. It was the reason Vernon was serving as Lord Theodore’s valet. He said Lord Theodore had no valet of his own because Lord Allerton wouldn’t give him sufficient allowance for one.”
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