by Blythe Baker
“I imagine she will be, yes,” Mr. Jerome said. He spared a small, quick glance behind his aunt’s back at me.
I looked away, my face flooding with color.
What now, I wondered? With the conclusion of the reading of the will, there would be little reason left for any of the guests to remain at the estate. I imagined most would remain until morning when they would begin their journeys home.
Was that it, then? Would the mystery of the Colonel’s death remain unsolved?
The thought troubled me deeply. The idea that someone had killed the Colonel and still walked free, perhaps nearby at this very moment, sent chills down my spine despite the warmth of the afternoon sun as we stepped outside.
I could not even begin to think yet about the gift the Colonel had willed to me and why he might have left me anything at all.
Mrs. Townson stood near the car, likely waiting for her son. Her gaze was cool as Mr. Jerome went to her, pulling away from Mrs. Montford and me.
She glared at him as he drew near. When he reached her, he leaned down and whispered something to her, his expression changing almost as if he had dropped a mask.
It is clear she expected to inherit more, I thought. It is also abundantly clear that she is disappointed. No, not disappointed…livid.
Must I turn my suspicions upon her, as well? Accuse her?
I did not know what to think.
My heart beat rapidly as I watched her climb into the car.
What had he said to her? Why had his demeanor changed so quickly?
“Thank you, Anna.”
I turned, almost forgetting where I was and who I stood beside.
“For what? I mean, of course, Mrs. Montford. You need not thank me for anything,” I muttered.
She shook her head. “Foolish girl. I simply meant to thank you for being there with me. In that room, I mean.”
“Of course. It was my honor, my lady.”
She sighed, watching Mrs. Townson and Mr. Jerome’s car pull away, heading east, likely back toward the estate.
“I do hope that life can have some semblance of peace once more,” she said. “For I admit that I am quite tired of all this excitement.”
Perhaps that was my answer. Mrs. Montford wished for her life to be normal. It would never be the same, of course, but it could at least be a bit less hectic. More normal than not.
“All I wish is to grieve in peace,” she added, and I heard for the first time the weight and the exhaustion in her words.
I gestured toward the car. “Of course, my lady,” I said, guiding her down the last few steps. “Then let us go home. I shall ask Mrs. Carlisle to order a meal of your favorites this evening, shall I? And would you desire to eat in your quarters?”
“No, no…” Mrs. Montford said with a dismissive wave as she stopped, just outside the car. “With any luck, my guests will be gone tomorrow. I must only endure them for one more night.”
She glanced back up the stairs, as a few more of the stragglers made their way to their own cars to follow us back.
Some of the color drained from her face. “However,” she said, looking at me. “As much as I would like to put this entire business behind me, I fear that it has only just begun.”
13
I had always taken Mrs. Montford for a woman worthy of a husband in the military. Brave, strong, and poised, as unshakeable as an ancient tree. She had endured much, even the death of her husband, with grace. Yet leaving the courthouse, hearing all she had in the will, and then the responses of those in the room, seemed to rattle her more than I ever expected it could.
This, in turn, caused my own heart to feel heavy with dread. The knots in my stomach twisted and writhed like a pile of snakes unable to extract themselves from one another, hissing in rage. The worry clung to me like a cloak of wet leaves, all through the afternoon, into dinner, and even as the night fell on the estate.
There were so many questions and few answers. I might have had the confidence to set all this aside had Mrs. Montford done the same. To hear her fears so magnified, however, unsettled me to my core.
I did my best not to look at Mr. Jerome, though I felt his gaze upon me more than once during the evening meal. Conversation was terse and no one seemed to be enjoying themselves. I was all too happy when the last of the plates were taken from the table and Mrs. Montford bid her guests goodnight.
As she made her way from the dining room, she told Mr. Hendrick to gather any information that he could about when her guests planned to leave the estate and to encourage them to do so as soon as possible…kindly, of course. He nodded, understanding precisely what it was that she wanted, and stepped into the dining room as she started down the hall.
In the hall, I passed Selina, who Mrs. Carlisle had seemingly absconded with earlier. I wanted to tell her about the events at the courthouse, but I knew that she could not stop to talk, and neither could I.
“Shall I prepare your bath, Mrs. Montford?” I asked as we ascended the stairs.
“No, thank you,” Mrs. Montford said. “I shall be quite content with some tea and a good book, if you do not mind.”
“Not at all, my lady,” I said. “I shall have it prepared for you right away.”
After a quick trip to the kitchens, where Mrs. Rose insisted upon hollering at anyone within earshot about her exhaustion at having to cook for nearly a dozen guests every meal for the last several days, I waited while the water boiled for Mrs. Montford’s tea. Then, all too happy for the chance to escape Mrs. Rose’s wrath, I hurriedly carried the tray filled with treats and tea back up to my lady’s room.
I found Mrs. Montford sitting in her yellow chair, staring out the window. The candles on her side table had been lit, and her current novel rested open on her lap, though a marker still lay in the spine’s part. I assumed she had not yet read a single word.
“Here we are,” I said, bringing the tray to the little table along the wall.
“Oh, there you are, girl,” she said as I approached, looking up with wide eyes as if I had surprised her. She took the proffered tea with slow hands. “Thank you,” she said.
I turned and made my way back to the table, placed a few of the finger sandwiches filled with cream and jam on a plate, and brought them back to her.
I stood beside her, waiting, but her gaze seemed firmly fixed on something outside.
“Mrs. Montford?” I asked, pushing the plate toward her.
“There is one thing I cannot understand,” she said in a small, low voice. “I knew my husband, and something…something is just not right.”
“What is not right, ma’am?” I asked, moving the plate slightly away.
Is this about the will? Is she beginning to wonder about what her husband offered?
A chill swept over me.
Is she wondering about what he left for me? I have no idea why it was that he left me anything. Perhaps it was nothing more than a mistake.
She shook her head, still staring into the distance. “The Colonel…the morning he died. He was terribly upset about something. It was not like him to lose his temper as he did, but something incurred his wrath in such a strong way.”
My heart skipped. I had nearly forgotten. The way he had snapped at the servant George had surprised me, as well. It seemed that something had deeply distressed the Colonel for him to take his anger out on the staff.
“He intended to deal with it after the party,” Mrs. Montford said. “Through all this, I cannot forget his frustration. I urged him to remain calm but he was quite furious. He knew he did not have time before the guests arrived to deal with whatever it was that occurred but he seemed ready to wring someone’s neck.”
The small hairs on the back of my neck stood up as a new thought wedged itself into my mind.
What if I have been looking at the wrong part of all of this? Every suspect has been a guest or member of the family. What if the person responsible was neither? The man in question was a server, was he not?
I
had dismissed the idea that it could have been one of the servants or staff since both Selina and Mr. Hendrick had assured me that no one who worked for the Colonel and Mrs. Montford had that mole on the back of his neck. It was my only clue, that mole.
“I am convinced whatever it was that angered him had something to do with his death,” Mrs. Montford said, her tone utterly defeated. “But now it is too late to think of such things, I suppose…”
I did not think it wise to offer my own thoughts. Firstly, she had not asked me. And secondly, I hardly had anything to contribute. What would I tell her? That both Mr. Barnet and Mr. Newton had seemed to me like possible culprits, but I could discover nothing definite against either of them?
What good could discussing the matter any further do?
Mrs. Montford sighed heavily and looked down at her book. “Well…thank you for the tea, Anna. You may leave the cakes there. I shall see to them as I…as I attempt to read, I suppose.”
She gestured weakly toward the small table beside her where she had rested her tea, untouched.
“Of course, ma’am,” I said.
“Now I would very much like some peace and quiet,” she said. “If you will give me but an hour...”
I bobbed a quick curtsy. “Of course, Mrs. Montford. Ring for me, if you need me.”
She nodded, turning her attention to the book in her lap, and I knew I was dismissed.
I stepped out into the hall, my heart heavy. I pulled the door shut as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her further.
I might have walked away then but something prompted me to linger in case she might call me back at any moment. I was not out there long before Selina came wandering down the hall. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
“The mistress wishes to have some time alone, but I think I will stay nearby,” I said.
Selina took a post on the other side of the doorway, opposite me. She gave me a quizzical look. “How was the reading of the will?” she asked in a low voice, so as not to be overheard by Mrs. Montford within.
“Unexpected,” I said. “Not surprisingly, Mrs. Montford was left the majority of the Colonel’s property and belongings.”
I did not like the idea of keeping the full truth from my friend, given her already shaky trust in me since my conversation with Mr. Jerome. However, I knew that if I told her that the Colonel had left me some small income—enough for me to live a rather humble but comfortable life after my mistress’s eventual passing—what would she say? He had not left any other members of his staff any such luxuries. Why had he chosen to leave me anything?
All I could think was that it may have been a gesture of gratitude for taking care of his wife. I was the one who could have been her shadow, as closely as I tended to her. No other members of the house remained with her as much as I did. Was this his way of ensuring my continued loyalty?
“And the others?” Selina asked, still quiet.
“Hardly anything, apart from some trinkets and mementos,” I said. “Needless to say, it did not go over very well with the others who were in attendance.”
“No, I can imagine not,” Selina said. She breathed deeply, allowing the air to pass slowly between her lips. “Well…at least it is all over now. We can put this behind us.”
I remained silent, looking down at the edge of the rug that ran the full length of the hall.
It was not long before I felt Selina’s eyes upon me.
“It is over, isn’t it?” she asked, perhaps with a bit more demand and less question.
I shrugged. “I do not know.”
I felt the tension zing through the air. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You are not still thinking on this whole matter of the Colonel being murdered, are you? Anna, you promised me that you would—”
“It is not merely I who still believe there is something suspicious about all this,” I said, looking up at her.
“Oh?” Selina asked, folding her arms. She shook her head. “I simply do not understand why you are so insistent upon this, after you said that you were done trying to—”
“I was done, I was,” I said. “But now I am beginning to wonder again.”
“Anna,” Selina snapped, glaring at me. “Why in the world do you think that you need to wonder anything?”
I stopped, blinking at her.
“It is not your job to worry over these things,” she said in a hissing whisper. “You are very much in danger of forgetting your duties, your station, and then what will happen to you? What if Mrs. Montford were to learn of it?”
I opened my mouth to tell her that Mrs. Montford had been the one to draw my questions to the surface once again, but she stepped away from the door.
“I must return to Mrs. Carlisle,” she said with a glare at me as she passed. “If I were you, I would forget that you had ever been involved with anything remotely related to the Colonel’s death, lest someone suspect you of being responsible.”
“Selina,” I said. “You do not mean that.”
“Stop digging for the truth, Anna,” she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder, her auburn braid swinging. “Before it is too late.”
14
Selina’s dismissal of my involvement somehow spurred me further onward. I had become convinced the answer was right in front of me, and seeing Mrs. Montford’s defeat made me that much more determined to learn everything. She had given up, but it was clear that she wanted to know the truth.
I might have once agreed with Selina, to keep my head down as a means of protecting my position in the household. But at the same time, Mrs. Montford was the one who had shown me just how strange the whole situation had become. Her sorrow, her loss, made me want to do whatever I could to make her life that much easier, to take some of the burden away.
In a way, it also seemed that the Colonel had entrusted me with taking care of his wife, and if this was a way that I could honor them both, then I owed it to them.
My biggest concern was that come morning, with most of the family leaving, my chance of finding the answer might very well be leaving with them.
I could not trust Mr. Jerome, not when I was uncertain if his hands, and those of his mother, were entirely clean in the matter. They were far from disinterested parties, after all. Nor could I rely on Selina, who had clammed up and brushed my worries away when I attempted to speak with her.
There was one avenue that I had yet to pursue. An avenue to which I had never anticipated I would need to resort.
Nora Blankenship was a maid who had served at the Montford estate for almost a year longer than I had and she had managed to sink roots into the household that many were convinced went deeper than those of the Montfords themselves. Somehow, she seemed to know everything about everyone. Because of that, hardly anyone gave her the time of day unless they wanted something. Whatever one said around her would be stored away and later used in conversation with someone else. Many had learned not to share anything too personal, lest she choose to spread it to anyone who would listen to her tales.
Due to her habit of stirring up mischief, Mrs. Carlisle had confined her to the kitchens where Mrs. Rose would have none of the woman’s nonsense.
Nora was my last resort. I knew that by my speaking with her, the entire staff would soon know that I was asking questions about the Colonel’s death.
“Well, if it isn’t the Colonel’s little pet,” Nora greeted me, an amused grin spreading across her face as I entered the kitchen. She tossed the dough in her hands into a bowl on the narrow table along the wall, causing it to rock and sway. “The little mouse, finally stepping out of the shadows.”
I stopped, staring at her. “What do you—”
She snatched a jar of flour from the table behind her. “I heard Miss Maryanne muttering about it. It seems that you and the Colonel had some sort of secret.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, but my face burned so hot she was certain to think I was lying. “Do you believe everything you h
ear?”
“Until someone proves it false,” she said. “Now, what have you come to see me for, hmm? What information could you possibly want?”
I did not like that she knew precisely what it was that I had come to do, even before I had the chance to speak to her about it. That suggested my interest in the Colonel’s death had already attracted attention.
“I suppose I should not be surprised,” I said. I considered asking her to keep my question between the two of us, but I knew how quickly that would backfire. “Would you by any chance know about anything strange that happened the morning of the Colonel’s death?”
Nora snatched the bowl with the dough lying inside toward her, but her gaze had fixed firmly upon me. Her eyes flashed and her smirk grew. “Interesting. Why do you want to know?”
As long as I was careful with my words, then whatever she chose to tell others would be minimally damaging to me. “Mrs. Montford is rather distressed. She believes that something is being kept from her. Something that she did not know about.”
Nora’s smile faltered slightly. She had not expected me to be there on behalf of the mistress—the only person Nora would not dare to spread any nonsense about.
“Oh, well…” Nora said, turning away, all of her fun seemingly diminished. “I thought everyone knew of the fire in the kitchen that morning. Was Mrs. Montford not informed?”
“She was, yes,” I said. “She believes that something else happened with the Colonel. Something that someone on staff would rather she not know.”
Nora pursed her lips, reaching into the bowl and pounding with a fist. The force she used made me quite grateful that she had yet to become angry with me. “Well, I did hear that the Colonel and the butler had a rather big row that morning. I was not present, of course, but the Colonel certainly was not doing anything to hide his shouting.”
A cold chill washed over me. “Mr. Hendrick?” I asked. “Do you know what it was about?”
Nora snorted, slamming her fist into the dough, flattening it against the side of the bowl. “Oh, I have no idea,” she said. “Mr. Hendrick apparently came out of the room looking rather cross, but everything seemed well enough by the time the party began.”
