by Paula Paul
Nancy tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile. “And as I remember you were grateful enough to pay me a few pence more than I asked for.”
“Nevertheless—”
“And have you thought of this,” Nancy said, not giving Alexandra a chance to protest more, “just why were Mr. Atewater and the constable both out at that pier? Were they both after you? Or were they after something else? Maybe something they were afraid you’d find before they could. Was it you they meant to kill instead of that young man, Quince? If you ask me, you need my help now even more than—”
Alexandra interrupted her as she opened the churchyard gate and stepped into the street. “Come now, Nancy, your imagination is running away with you.” She feared her voice betrayed her lack of conviction. She had given no thought to the possibility that what happened to Quince was meant to have happened to her, but Nancy’s speculation was not entirely unreasonable, she had to admit.
Chapter Fifteen
Alexandra saw no more of Jeremy Atewater for the next several days. Talk around the village was that he had gone back to London. Lord Winningham must have returned as well, since she saw no sign of him either.
The only time she saw Constable Snow was when she tried to visit Elsie again. Snow told her he could not allow it, since there was no medical reason to see her. Alexandra hoped that meant she was no longer hallucinating.
Even Mrs. Pickwick was marginally better, at least to the extent that she no longer spoke of seeing Lord Dunsford’s ghost. She was clearly edgy, however, as well as eager to make her escape from Montmarsh.
If Constable Snow was still looking for Rob and Artie, he did not come to Alexandra’s home to search for them. Alexandra knew she could be breaking the law by harboring them, but she could not convince herself that they would be of any value to Snow, since they most certainly would not tell him anything. In the meantime, she would allow them to stay in the interest of their safety.
The two of them had been given the run of the house, except during surgery hours when someone might see them or when guests were expected. Nancy had given them tasks around the house, which they seemed happy to perform in exchange for her stews and meat pies, and especially her chocolate biscuits.
On the surface, it appeared that Newton-Upon-Sea and, to some extent, Montmarsh, had returned to normal. There was, of course, talk of Elsie’s trial as the date grew near, but even that seemed nothing out of the ordinary.
It was the Sunday before the trial. When Alexandra and Nancy returned home from the church Alexandra was reminded that things were far from normal.
The moment she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she sensed that something was wrong. She glanced at Nancy, who appeared tense and ill at ease as if she, too, thought something was wrong.
Zack, in the meantime, had roused himself from his resting place near the hearth and was barking with excitement. That in itself was odd. He usually greeted Alexandra or Nancy with a subdued, gruff bark, along with a nudge with his nose.
“Zack’s trying to tell us something,” Nancy said as she removed her hat and placed it on the rack.
“I think you’re right.” Alexandra knelt down to rub Zack’s neck and look into his eyes. He cocked his head and barked again.
“I’ll just take a minute to see about the boys before I make your tea, Miss,” Nancy said, as if she had somehow understood the message in Zack’s bark. She was practically running up the stairs.
Alexandra followed her with equal exigency, and Zack followed right behind, still barking, until they reached the door to the room that had been her father’s, but now had become the boys’ room. Both Alexandra and Nancy hesitated and looked at each other, sharing some inexpressible fear before Nancy knocked lightly on the door.
“Rob? Artie?” Nancy waited, breathless, her knuckles still poised a few inches from the door. She leaned closer. “Hello? I was wondering, would you like me to bring you up a bit of luncheon? Tea perhaps? And there are some scones in the larder still fresh.” Again there was no response.
Alexandra stepped in front of Nancy and grasped the door knob. It was not locked, and she had specifically told Artie to keep it locked. She opened the door and stepped inside. She felt a sudden hollowness in her stomach. No one was there. Zack was quiet, as if there was no need to bark now. No need to tell them the boys were gone.
“Dear God!” Nancy cried and ran into the hallway calling their names. “Artie! Rob! You best not be up to mischief, or I’ll see to it myself that you get a proper thrashing. Rob, where are you?”
“It’s no use, Nancy. They’re gone.” Alexandra handed her a fly leaf torn from one of her father’s medical texts. She had just found the page on the floor. Rob had used it to pen a note in the same crude handwriting she had seen before. She watched as Nancy silently read the words.
We seen the kiler. We have to run or we wil be muddred. Run or you will be muddred to.
Nancy glanced at her, still holding the fly leaf. “Do you suppose the murderer came here looking for them? Or was it you?”
Alexandra shook her head. “I don’t know. But they recognized him. Or her.”
“But they said they didn’t know the killer’s identity.”
“They said they didn’t know the name. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t recognize a face.”
Nancy’s face paled. “He could be after you, as well, you know. Or she, as you say.”
Alexandra found she could not speak.
“But why?” Nancy asked. “Why would anyone kill any of those three boys?”
Alexandra paced the hall a few steps, rolling the flyleaf into a tight cylinder. “Because each of them had something the killer wanted? Or because each of them knew something that could be damaging to the killer?”
“And all that talk of ghosts,” Nancy said. “Things that won’t stay dead. ’Tis as if the whole county has been possessed by a demon.”
Alexandra stopped her pacing and turned to face Nancy. “There’s more than one corpse that walks among the living.”
Nancy gave her an alarmed look. “What did you say?”
Alexandra turned back toward the stairs, calling back to Nancy. “I’ll need a few things in a satchel small enough to tie to my saddle. Get them ready for me, please. Enough for one night’s stay.” She hurried down the stairs. Nancy ran to the landing and called down to her.
“Where are you going?”
“Montmarsh,” Alexandra said over her shoulder. “And I may not be home until morning. I’m going to find that ghost.”
“What!” Nancy scrambled after her. “You’ll do no such thing. Not when there’s a murderer loose. And he’s after you too. Or she’s after you. Didn’t that boy say as much in the note he left? ’Tis because you know too much, isn’t it? And what do you mean a ghost?” Nancy’s voice had risen several decibels by the time she caught up with Alexandra at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll be as safe at Montmarsh as I am here.” Alexandra hurried toward the backdoor, headed for the stable and for Lucy. Nancy was right behind her, still protesting frantically.
“Of course you’ll be safer here. You’ll have Zack to warn you.”
Alexandra tried to ignore her, mostly because she knew Nancy was right. She gave instructions to Freddie, whom, she was surprised to see, had shown up for work. She turned back to Nancy. “I’ll leave Zack here for your protection.”
“And who will protect you?” Nancy demanded.
“I will be all right, Nancy,” Alexandra said. “Remember? You taught me everything you know.”
Montmarsh loomed before her, shrouded in a sticky summer haze. It seemed darker somehow, and even Lucy sensed it. She slowed her pace, and then stopped completely, throwing her head about. Alexandra, sitting sidesaddle, nudged her with her left heel.
“Go on, Lucy.” She kept her voice low and calm, but she had to nudge the mare again and speak to her once more before she resumed a reluctant advance toward the imposing country house.
Alexandra dismounted and was about to secure Lucy’s reigns to a post when she saw Nicholas riding a large bay gelding along the path that led from the back of the house. He must have returned to testify at the trial. She recognized the gelding he was riding as one that belonged to the earl’s estate.
Nicholas saw her at almost the same moment and waved and called to her. “Alexandra!” He urged the horse to a quicker trot and stopped in front of her. “Alexandra!” he repeated. “How wonderful to see you. I was just on my way to your house.” He dismounted and walked toward her.
“How nice to see you again.” She knew her reply sounded stiff and formal.
A troubled frown moved across his face like a cloud.
“Is something wrong?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought of posting you a letter describing all I have learned, but I knew I would most likely return before the letter arrived.”
“All you have learned?”
He gave her another puzzled look. “You got my message, of course.”
“Your message?”
“I sent a note to you by your stable boy telling you that I had to leave rather suddenly, and that I would have much to discuss with you when I returned.”
She found herself inexplicably relieved that his sudden departure had not been out of rudeness after all. “I’m afraid I received no such message.”
“Ah,” he said with an amused expression in his eyes, “then that explains your discontent.”
“Discontent?”
“Well I did rather expect a warmer welcome.”
“I must apologize if I was rude, Mr. Forsythe.
Nicholas’s response was an all too confident smile as he secured Lucy’s reins and took Alexandra’s arm to lead her toward the house. “To satisfy your curiosity,” he said, “I will tell you that I made a rather quick journey to London to—”
“I have no curiosity,” she lied, “and there is no need to make me privy to your business in London.”
“Ah, but there is a need, my dear Alexandra.” His tone was not at all defensive. “You see, the reason for my journey was because of our mutual concern for Elsie O’Riley.”
“Indeed?” Alexandra glanced at Nicholas’s face and saw that he had now grown quite serious.
“I overheard some of the servants talking and realized the possible motives on the part of at least some of Eddie’s guests were even stronger than I thought, and with the trial occurring so soon, I had to get to London to try to learn as much as possible.”
Alexandra wanted to ask what, precisely, he had learned as well as who, precisely, were the guests with strong motives, but Nicholas went on talking.
“Unfortunately, I had learned everything of importance by the second day, and I’m afraid my week spent going through Eddie’s files were not as productive as I had hoped. There should be some interesting testimony, however, judging by the guests who have returned as witnesses. We’ll all be staying at Montmarsh during the trial. Even Isabel, who did her best to keep from having to testify, is here.”
“Is there hope for Elsie?”
Nicholas shook his head. “In spite of the fact that several people obviously could have had a motive to kill poor Eddie, there’s no concrete proof they would even attempt such a thing.”
Alexandra would have pushed him for more of an explanation of the supposed motives, except that they had, by now, entered the great hall of Montmarsh and were met by the butler. He took Alexandra’s hat and riding crop in a resigned manner and announced that, in the absence of the heir apparent, only a light supper would be served in the dining room tonight.
“Since it was always the custom of the late Lord Dunsford to make his guests comfortable, I shall accommodate you,” he said, sounding as if, in truth, he was loath to do so. “Excuse me, Mr. Forsythe,” he added. “It was my understanding that you would be taking your evening meal elsewhere.”
“I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind.” There was a hint of irritability in Nicholas’s voice.
“Indeed,” the butler said. He turned to Alexandra. “And will the lady be spending the night?”
Nicholas, still sounding irritated, attempted to answer for her. “Of course not, she—”
“Yes,” said Alexandra in the same moment. “I must see after Mrs. Pickwick.” She had conceived the excuse during her ride to Montmarsh. She was determined to stay the night to look for the so-called ghost.
Nicholas looked at her in surprise while the butler, unperturbed, merely nodded. “I’ll have one of the maids ready a room for you.” He bowed again as he left.
“And please have someone see to my horse,” she said.
“You’re going to spend the night?” There was a hint of eagerness in Nicholas’s voice now, along with the surprise.
“Yes.” Alexandra was busy removing her gloves. “It has come clear to me that someone needs to talk to that corpse that walks about Montmarsh.” She glanced at Nicholas and smiled benignly, hoping to ward off any protest.
Nicholas looked at her askance. “Alexandra, as I said before, you’re a sensible, educated woman. Surely you don’t believe—”
“Don’t believe there’s a corpse walking about? A number of people have seen it, Nicholas.”
Nicholas still looked puzzled. “But that doesn’t mean—”
“I should think at the very least it should be looked into. I intend to do that, and since the corpse seems to appear only at night, I’m going to spend the night here.”
“Well, of course.” Nicholas said. “We’ll both stay up and investigate it together. Perhaps Elsie can call him, or it, as a witness for the defense.”
“There’s no need to be patronizing, Mr. Forsythe.”
“I am by no means patronizing. I am quite serious.”
“Are you?”
“Certainly! When one has eyewitness accounts from a feather-brained socialite, a hysterical cook, a man in his cups, and an ignorant, frightened serving girl, of course one must be quite serious about investigating.”
Alexandra looked at him, saying nothing for a long, chilling moment. “I see your point, Mr. Forsythe, but you must admit it is a rather odd coincidence that more than one of these people, even though you imply they are incompetent, have seen the same thing.”
There was another second before he spoke and his expression softened. “Of course, you’re right. Please forgive me, Alexandra, I—”
“Apology accepted,” she said, cutting him off. She walked up the stairs, hoping to find her room. After one of the maids pointed it out to her, she unpacked the small satchel containing her night clothes and a few toiletries Nancy had packed for her. As she shook out her nightdress, she considered whether or not she should go downstairs to join the other guests for a buffet supper. Would she be able to glean any more information from them? Or would her presence somehow intimidate them and keep them from revealing anything?
Eventually she decided to make her way down to the dining room. Jeremy Atewater and Lord Winningham were the only two in the room.
“Well, of course I have an academic interest in the trial.” Lord Winningham punctuated his speech with occasional grumbling harrumphs. “You see, I read law for a year before I went into the military.”
Atewater was about to reply when he saw Alexandra. He was unable to hide his surprise. “Dr. Gladstone? I say, what brings you here?”
Alexandra’s only reply was a nod and the slightest of smiles. She watched as Atewater moved toward her, a quick, liquid movement, like a drop of water running down glass. Lord Winningham, in the meantime, stepped to the buffet, helping himself to a slice of roast beef, which was floating in a rather questionable looking gravy. As he moved closer to her, she caught the scent of whiskey on his breath and heard him mumble, “Good God, even the locals are turning out for the bloody circus.”
Alexandra ignored his last remark and tried to look pleasant as Atewater took her hand to kiss. He was about to speak when Isabel’s voice, thin
as a fingernail on slate board, overrode his. “Hello, Jerry, dear. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Atewater once again appeared off guard. “Isabel! What are you—?”
“You didn’t expect me to show my face in public, did you? But I came to stand by my loyal husband while he made sure I was not touched by scandal.” Her voice was like raw silk, a curious mixture of coarse and smooth, and her eyes were gleaming. Perhaps with anger. Perhaps, simply, from too much wine. She came to stand beside Atewater and linked her arm through his in a possessive gesture while her eyes fixed on Alexandra. A smile flickered at her mouth. When she spoke, her eyes did not move from Alexandra. “Hello, Winnie. You’ve come for the bloodletting, I see.”
Lord Winningham, who had seated himself at the table and was attacking the roast beef, looked up, surprised. “Bloodletting? What bloodletting?” The knife and fork he gripped in each hand stood like sentries on each side of his overflowing plate.
“Why that trial. There are sure to be plenty of wounds.” Isabel slipped her arm from her husband’s and sat down across from Lord Winningham. “Have you spoken with the judge and the jurors yet? I’m sure Jerry has.”
“Isabel!” Atewater’s tone was scolding.
“Well, one does have to protect one’s interest, you know.” Isabel’s voice was sugary with feigned innocence. “Don’t you agree, Winnie?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madam.” Lord Winningham’s words rolled in his throat like thunder.
Isabel laughed and reached across the table to pat Lord Winningham’s bald head. She then leaned over to inspect the buffet and at the same time made a waving gesture toward Atewater and Alexandra. “Don’t let me interrupt you two. Just go on with what you were doing.” She gave the boiled potatoes a suspicious poke with the serving fork.
