by Rebecca King
Myles turned a wintry look on his father that made Barnabas take a wary step back. Myles’ normally handsome features had turned so cold and hard they held a hint of ruthless menace that was frightening. For a brief moment, Barnabas wondered if Myles was the killer, but immediately dismissed it, and felt guilty for having doubted his own son. He knew that Myles would never do something so heinous as to kill his uncle. It just wasn’t in Myles’ nature. However, it was obvious to anybody with eyes in their head that Marcus was fiercely angry, and apt to do anything if he came face-to-face with the murderer.
“We need to make sure the culprit is brought to justice, Myles. We cannot take the law into our own hands. I think it would be best if we restrict everybody’s movements for now. Nobody goes anywhere alone,” Barnabas cautioned.
Myles nodded and forced himself to relax. “I think we need to speak with the staff one by one. Then we need to gather the family in the study. It is important we find out what everybody has done this morning, and where they.”
“Then what? I mean, what if we find out who the killer is?”
“We will have to lock them in the cellar until the weather clears. One thing is for definite; we cannot allow them to stalk the corridors and kill again, can we?” Myles pushed to his feet and crossed the room to stand beside the door.
“Let’s put Gerald’s body on the bed for now,” Barnabas sighed. “I will send Cranbury up with the footmen.”
With everyone’s agreement, they moved the body and left the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Estelle struggled to hide her impatience and curiosity as she waited in the sitting room for Myles to reappear. This was the most she had been apart from him since he had appeared for breakfast many hours ago. Now that he was gone she felt vulnerable, confused, and very, very, afraid. While she had no reason to suspect that someone wanted her dead, there was still a killer in the house and so she had to consider that she was just as vulnerable as everyone else.
It was difficult not to pace. She tried to settle her mind to something more mundane to while away the time while Barnabas and Myles were questioning the servants but was too restless to sew, and couldn’t sit still long enough to read.
“How long do you think they will be?” she whispered for the tenth time in the past hour.
Beatrice snorted. “Why? Are you worried they will find something out that you want to remain hidden?”
“No, why would I?” Estelle replied. “I don’t have anything to hide. I am just curious to know if they have found any clues yet.” When Beatrice didn’t answer her, Estelle sighed. “Aren’t you worried that there is a killer in the house?”
Beatrice peered at her over the top of her book. “No. Why, should I be worried?”
“Well, you were called here as well,” Estelle replied. “There must be a reason why everyone has been summoned to the house like this.”
“I am sure we will find out in good time. Until then, worrying is not going to do us any good, is it?” There was an air of casual dismissal about Beatrice that made Estelle want to shake some life into her. It was as though she considered this all a boring game.
Maybe she knows she isn’t a target. Estelle quickly closed that thought out and turned away. In spite of her best intentions not to, she began to pace. The thought of having spent the better part of the evening with a cold-blooded murderer made her feel a little sick, and left her with an edgy feeling that rendered her unable to rest.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Beatrice advised. “In this house strange is normal.”
Estelle opened her mouth to argue but, before she could speak the door opened. Her heart leapt as she turned toward it. She anticipated Myles making an appearance, and couldn’t hide her disappointment when a rather withered lady in her late sixties shuffled into the room.
“Ah, Eva,” Isaac called. “Good day to you.”
“She won’t hear you,” Beatrice snorted. “She is stone deaf. Aren’t you Eva?”
Beatrice looked over her shoulder at the elderly woman now shuffling painfully across the room. The woman didn’t even look her way. For all intents and purposes, Eva didn’t even notice they were in the room.
“Just ignore her. Someone will tell her when it is time to eat,” Beatrice advised.
“I didn’t realise anybody else lived in the house,” Estelle replied, a little stunned when the woman threw herself tiredly into a chair in the far corner of the room, dug about in her carpet bag, and squinted down at her sewing ring. “Who else is in the house?”
Isaac sat on the chaise beside the fire. “Well, here is Eva, of course. She is an elderly relation of some sort-”
“Isaac,” Beatrice sighed. “She is Barnabas’ second cousin or something. Nobody can be entirely certain, but she is as old as Croesus, half-blind, deaf, and lives here gratis because she has no money. With no wealth, the alternative was a poor house. Barnabas wouldn’t hear of it, so he allowed her to move in here.”
“She has been here for about three or four years, now,” Isaac finished for her.
Beatrice sighed. “If you want to speak to her you are going to have to stand directly in front of her and shout. But I warn you now, if she starts to twitter on about her hobbies you will never shut her up. So, venture over there at your peril.”
Estelle remained where she was, a little disappointed at their scorn toward the elderly woman while in her presence. She felt rather sorry for the spinster, especially given her circumstances were not so dissimilar to her own.
“Who else?” she prompted when neither Beatrice nor Isaac seemed inclined to speak.
“Vernon.” Beatrice and Isaac replied in unison.
“Vernon?” Estelle looked around the room and wondered if Vernon was another familial straggler.
“He is er-” Isaac looked a little nonplussed for a moment.
“Odd,” Beatrice declared bluntly.
“Eccentric,” Isaac said, throwing Beatrice a rueful look. “Vernon is another of our family’s vagabond relatives with no place of his own to stay. He is as destitute as Eva.”
“Simple.”
“Pardon?” Estelle’s neck was starting to ache from looking from Beatrice, to Isaac, and back to Beatrice again.
“Vernon is odd. He rarely speaks to anybody. He doesn’t really like people, and spends most of his time playing that dreadful harpsicord of his in the tower room,” Beatrice explained.
“He also plays the harp,” Isaac added with a heavy sigh. “So if you hear harp music, you are not meeting your Maker, it is Vernon.”
“He lives in the south tower.”
Estelle nodded. She had wondered earlier why it had not been searched. Myles had just said to her that he would go in there later. She had been so eager to finish the search that she hadn’t stopped to question him. Now, she realised that Myles hadn’t wanted her to meet his strange relation.
“He is not like everybody else,” Beatrice added somewhat furtively.
“Myles?” Estelle asked. She closed her mouth with a snap when Beatrice and Isaac looked at each other.
“Vernon,” Isaac prompted.
Estelle’s cheeks turned pink, but she was prevented from having to explain herself by Beatrice, who looked cautiously about the room before she slowly leaned forward and lowered her tone to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Vernon is strange. He doesn’t keep the same hours as everybody else. He walks the corridors at night. If you see him talking, he won’t be talking to you.” She tapped her temple. “He is talking to his imaginary friends.”
“Imaginary friends?” Estelle whispered weakly. She looked at Isaac when he snorted.
“Come off it, Beatrice. You are scaring her,” Isaac chastised but without heat.
Estelle had the distinct impression that he wanted her to be afraid, but had no idea why other than he suspected her of being the killer.
“Vernon is shy, especially around strangers,” he explained, ignoring Beatrice’s snigger.
Estelle glared at the woman. The more time she spent in Beatrice’s company, the less she liked her. Beatrice was spiteful, a little cynical, and enjoyed making situations as unpleasant as possible. She also appeared to enjoy scaring people, especially Estelle, and was so callous that not even the death of her brother upset her.
“I am sure he is quite nice,” Estelle replied defensively. While she looked at Isaac as she spoke, her gaze turned quite pointedly to Beatrice. “After all, Myles and Barnabas seem are kindly gentlemen.”
“I am sure you think so,” Beatrice murmured silkily, her voice rich with hidden meaning.
Ignoring the heated flush in her cheeks, Estelle was pleased to turn the focus of her attention on Isaac, who seemed considerably less snide, and more apt to be brutally forthright.
“Then there is Beatrice. She is strange as well,” Isaac said with a shrug when Beatrice glared at him. “She is here because she likes to live in a house with servants so she can lord it over everybody and pretend she is somebody for a while,” he whispered, throwing Beatrice a teasing look which held just a slight hint of malice. “She is financially no better off that Eva, really. She just likes to pretend she has money. Barnabas pays all of her bills because she cannot control her spending.”
“Shut up, Isaac,” Beatrice snapped, her eyes flashing fire.
“Why are you here then?” Isaac challenged. “I mean, it isn’t time for your advance yet, is it?”
Beatrice glared at him, suddenly sitting upright in her seat, her back and shoulders rigidly straight with outrage.
“I am here because I received a letter just like Myles and your father. I take it you didn’t get one but came because your father insisted on it,” Beatrice snapped. She flopped back in her seat, glaring evilly at Isaac as though daring him to deny it. Then, she pointed one perfectly manicured finger in Isaac’s direction and levelled a hateful glare on him. “You go too far, Isaac. You are only here for the cash as well, don’t forget. You cannot live in the manner to which you have become accustomed either, and you know it. You are as much of a scrounger as the rest of us so be careful who you throw stones at.”
Isaac shrugged and looked at Estelle. “You see? First impressions make us look like an ordinary family, but if you wait around long enough all of our ghosts come out of the closet. Nobody likes each other very much, really. We are always bickering and sniping at each other.”
“How long do you think the storm is going to last?” she asked, hoping that a change of subject would stop everyone being so horrible to each other. When Beatrice snorted disparagingly, though, Estelle realised she was going to be drawn into another scornful tirade.
“We are all stuck here because of dear Barnabas,” she snapped, looking piqued. “He refuses to move into the present century and instead prefers to live in the dark ages. I mean, the Vikings aren’t going to attack but he refuses to fill that ridiculous moat in. Every time it rains, almost without fail the damned place floods and everyone is stranded. I have forgotten how many times I have traipsed all the way over here only to find it has been raining and nobody can get across that ridiculous contrivance to go home again.”
“My grandma will be worried,” Estelle replied weakly. Horribly aware that this was the truth, Estelle lapsed into worried silence and began to fret about what was going on at home.
Myles and Barnabas were crossing the hallway when Vernon descended the stairs. His lips moved in a silent monologue as he approached them but he didn’t utter a sound. It was clear from the strange, far-away expression in his eyes that he had no idea he was no longer alone.
Myles coughed discretely to draw his attention. Eventually, Vernon realised they were there, and stared at them avidly as he descended the final few stairs and walked toward them.
“Alright?” Myles asked. He stood back to let Vernon pass, but the man halted several feet away.
“Yes. Yes. Deuced odd, I don’t mind saying,” Vernon mumbled. “Dueced odd. The lights are back, you see? You do see, don’t you? You do. I know you do. They will get closer this time. I know they will. I have been told. They told me.”
Myles nodded. He knew from past experience not to interrupt one of Vernon’s ramblings. Instead, he waved a hand toward the study. “I need you to come and sit with us for a moment. Something important has happened this morning, Vernon, and it involves everyone in this house.”
Vernon scowled at him but didn’t argue. He meekly followed them into the sitting room where everyone else was waiting.
Estelle stared at the stranger who entered, but her attention was then immediately captured by the man who followed him into the room. The moment she laid eyes on Myles, everything seemed to become right in her world again. Her earlier restlessness settled in an instant. Stunned at the force of the emotions that swept through her, Estelle stared at him.
Myles sighed with relief when he saw Estelle standing beside the fireplace. She looked so right set amongst his family, in his home, that he couldn’t prevent himself from crossing the room toward her. Carefully ignoring the curious looks of the room’s other occupants, he captured her hands in his and he tugged her gently to one side of the room.
“How have you been?” He murmured gently.
Estelle glowed beneath his tender concern. “I am alright. How are you? I hope it has not been too troublesome?”
Myles shook his head, touched by her worry for him. “I am alright.”
“Have you found anything out?” she asked curiously.
Myles shook his head. “The servants rarely work alone it seems, and all of them have someone who can vouch for them.”
“Nobody has been outside then?” Her hopes were dashed when Myles shook his head. “So someone has been in the house but hid outside while we were searching for them.”
Myles knew it wasn’t a question but answered it anyway. He suspected she needed the reassurance having honest answers would give her.
“It looks that way, yes. It appears that the killer is one of us,” Myles said.
Estelle nodded. Her gaze fell to their hands. His fingers were curled protectively around hers creating a connection unlike any other she had felt before. Something warm settled deep in the pit of her belly and began to unfurl. She knew that Myles was not the killer. That deep, instinctive connection she felt which drew her continuously toward him refused to even consider the possibility that Myles could be so callous. Toward her, he had been nothing more than a perfect gentleman who had behaved with the upmost decorum, tenderness, and care. It wasn’t possible for someone like him to be a murderer, she just knew it.
“I need to speak with the family to explain what happens now. Until then, try to ignore Isaac. He is grieving in his own way but has a few questions of his own to answer. At some point throughout the evening we are going to have to question everybody on what they have been doing since they got up this morning,” he explained. “Unfortunately, that includes you.”
“I don’t mind,” she assured him. “If it helps to catch whoever did this then I will help in any way I can.”
“Just don’t go wandering off alone either,” he warned her. “Nobody in this house is to be trusted yet.”
Her eyes met his. A wealth of understanding flowed between them. “Even you?” she whispered, not meaning it.
“Even me,” he replied, but softened his statement with a rueful smile.
“I know you didn’t do it,” she whispered and threw him a chiding look.
“Oh? How so?” he challenged.
Estelle hesitated. “Well, this is your house,” she replied. “It would be incredibly foolish of you to ask someone to call at the house and then kill them, wouldn’t it?”
Myles opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again without a snap. He nodded, impressed with her logic but worried nonetheless. “I understand what you are saying but it is still not wise to discount anybody in this, not even those who appear completely innocent. However, I promise you that I am innocent. Ergo, we nee
d to stay together and keep our eyes and ears open.”
“Are you two going to join us this evening or are you going to stand there whispering all night?” Beatrice called impatiently.
Myles sighed. “Just let me know if you want to go to your bedchamber and I will escort you, alright?”
His fingers squeezed hers when she didn’t immediately answer. Her eyes met his again. She smiled softly.
“Alright.” She knew she would allow Myles to escort her anywhere, just as long as she could see him and know that he was alright.
Holding his arm out to her, Myles placed her hand on his forearm and led her toward a chair before the fireplace. He ignored Beatrice’s muttering and waited until Estelle was seated before he took up position in front of the fireplace and looked at each person in turn.
A nervous silence fell over the room, this time watchful and wary. Vernon’s lips continued to move but not a sound came out. Eva, still oblivious to the world at large, remained lost in her embroidery. Everyone else remained tense and watchful as they waited.
“Well?” Beatrice demanded impatiently.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Nothing.” Myles ignored Beatrice’s disgruntled look and shook his head at Isaac. “They all have alibis. Because of the weather, everybody has been working in or around the kitchens and in sight of other people. The only time the maids have been alone is when they have lit the fires first thing this morning. They are adamant that everyone was fast asleep when they saw them last.”
When Isaac snorted a protest, Barnabas glared at him.
“These maids have been with me for several years. We have all been together under this roof for a long time, even when the moat has been unpassable. If any of them wanted to kill us they wouldn’t be likely to wait several years to do so. It doesn’t make sense.”
“So, you are saying that the killer is one of us?” Beatrice snapped.
“The facts speak for themselves, don’t they? I mean, everyone in the family has something to gain.” He lifted a hand up when Beatrice opened her mouth to object to the accusation. “Because of that, I am going to ask each of us where we have been this morning. In light of the dangers that surround us all it would be prudent to be honest.”
