“Phoebe—”
“Yes, Owen, I’ll be careful. I promise.”
A deep, rumbling sigh came over the wire. “I suppose I shouldn’t worry. If anyone can take care of herself, you can. With Eva’s help, of course.”
“Thank you, and yes, we’ve grown adept at watching each other’s backs.”
“But I don’t have to like it.”
“No, that’s true.”
“All right, but do know that if something were to happen to you . . . well.” He rang off, leaving her smiling and feeling that he’d just wrapped his arms around her.
* * *
After parting with Curtis Mowbry, Eva decided to put herself at Veronica Townsend’s disposal and see what else she could learn about her brother’s will. Miss Townsend seemed all too happy to see her.
“You must be a mind reader, Huntford. I could very much use your help just now. Do come in.”
The dresser drawers and armoire had been flung wide, and two portmanteaus sat upon the bed, waiting to be filled. Miss Townsend spoke as she proceeded into the bathroom. “I’ve decided I’ve had quite enough of this hotel. Stuffy room, substandard food . . . I’m sure even you must understand.”
Eva found the food in the dining room quite good, actually, better than at some of the grand estates she’d visited with her ladies. She said nothing of that but wondered about Miss Townsend’s intentions. The police had not yet given them permission to leave Cowes. She surveyed the room around her, deciding to start with the dresser.
“Antonia will be coming with me,” the woman said as she reentered the bedroom, carrying an overnight case filled with toiletries. The sleeves of her shirtwaist were buttoned around her wrists, hiding the gash she had claimed resulted from working in her garden at home. “We’re returning to the Georgiana tonight.”
“Oh, I see, ma’am.” Eva tried to keep her features even and not betray her skepticism.
“And, Huntford, not a word of this to Mildred.”
“No, ma’am?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, but it came out that way all the same. What had this sudden decision to do with Miss Blair, and why should Miss Townsend need to keep secrets from an employee?
“Nor to Sir Hugh. Nor to anyone, for that matter. What I do is no one’s concern but my own.”
“I can see why you’d wish to keep your plans to yourself, ma’am. If you don’t mind my saying, that was quite a mysterious business in the meeting room earlier.”
“Indeed it was, Huntford.” She studied Eva a moment, and Eva wondered if she had been too impertinent in her observation. She didn’t wish to be told to leave, not yet. “It was rather irregular for you to be there, but I suppose I understand Julia’s desire for it. Odd she didn’t choose her sister, though. But perhaps having you rather than Phoebe ensured her privacy.”
“Just so, ma’am. Lady Annondale is familiar with my talent for discretion.”
“Yes . . .” Miss Townsend continued her scrutiny, while Eva pretended not to notice it. “Are you discreet, Huntford?”
“The very soul of discretion, ma’am. Always.”
“Then I shall ask you a question. Do you think it’s possible Julia is in a delicate condition?”
The question didn’t surprise Eva. Though she knew what her answer would be, she took a moment before speaking, as if weighing the wisdom of doing so. “It’s highly doubtful, ma’am. Of course, I don’t know for certain either way. About that, Lady Annondale has kept her own counsel.”
“Do you think her sister would know? You and Phoebe are thick as thieves. Don’t deny it. Have you asked her for her thoughts on the matter?”
Eva had leaned over the bed to place several shirtwaists into one of the portmanteaus. She straightened, assuming a thoughtful expression. “No, I haven’t, ma’am. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Perhaps not. But if you could . . . if you would, that is, I would make it worth your while.”
Eva allowed her eyes to widen. She’d had experience only last summer with the sort of lady’s maids who were all too eager to betray their mistresses for profit. Why not allow Miss Townsend to believe she might be one of them? “Is it very important, ma’am? Won’t time tell all?”
Leaning against the tall bureau, the woman folded her arms. “But that will be weeks from now. Yes, it is important, Huntford, for those of us who wish to get on with our lives. What game my brother thought he was playing, I’ll never know. It’s one thing to make allowances for a new heir, but it’s quite another to leave us all hanging, with nothing to live on, unable to plan for the future. It’s insupportable, I tell you.”
“I can understand that, ma’am.”
There was a banging on the door, and a woman’s voice called through the paneled oak, “Veronica, let me in. I forgot to take my key.”
“It isn’t locked, goose,” Miss Townsend called back.
Mrs. Seward came into the room as breathless as if she’d run up the stairs rather than taken the lift. “Oh, good. The maid is here. We need help packing.”
“Yes, I’ve already told her. Now, quickly, shut the door.”
Eva continued filling Miss Townsend’s portmanteaus while the two women discussed their plans.
“I asked the concierge to arrange our water transportation,” Mrs. Seward said. She dabbed a handkerchief at her face and neck. “He’ll also have a taxicab waiting for us in an hour. Will that be sufficient time?”
“It should be, now that Huntford is here.” Another knock sounded at the door, and Miss Townsend frowned. “Who could that be? Huntford, would you please?”
Eva had barely turned the knob when the door burst open, pushed from the outside. She stepped out of the way as Miss Blair forced her way into the room.
“I’d like to know why the two of you need a boat. Where do you intend to go?”
Both Miss Townsend’s and Mrs. Seward’s mouths dropped open in expressions defined by indignation. Mrs. Seward spoke first.
“You were following me and eavesdropping on my business. How dare you?”
“I didn’t follow anyone, and one can’t call it eavesdropping if you spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone standing near the front desk.”
Mrs. Seward’s hands went to her hips. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Then you obviously didn’t look very well. I’d gone down to report the water in my room not heating sufficiently in the mornings. And there you were, requesting boat transportation. I’ll ask again. Where do you two intend going?”
“It’s none of your business, Mildred.” Miss Townsend crossed the room, stopping just short of trampling the younger woman’s toes. “How dare you come barging in here like this?”
Miss Blair’s reddened lips stretched into a smile. “If you’re planning to return to the Georgiana, you can forget it this instant. You heard what Clarence Walker said. No one has any claim to that boat until the will is finally read. The same goes for the estate, though once the police release us, you may resume residence there—for the time being.”
Eva hadn’t heard the solicitor make that particular stipulation about the Georgiana. Had it happened before she and Lady Julia arrived in the meeting room? Taken aback, she had no wish to be asked to leave the room before she found out more. To that end, she eased backward into an inconspicuous corner, allowing the open door to partially shield her from view. A shame she hadn’t worn green, which would have allowed her to blend in with the wallpaper.
“What’s it to you what I or anyone else does, Mildred? You’re not my brother’s heir, for all he was good enough to name you in his will. A small bequeathal, is all. Nothing, certainly, to fill your head with such self-importance.”
Miss Blair lifted her chin and leaned toward Miss Townsend, as if to meet her challenge. “I am still the estate secretary, until the new heir—or the new heir’s guardian—dismisses me.”
Through the gap between the door and the jamb, Eva watched as a newcomer entered the room. “W-what’s go
ing on in here?” Mr. Shelton stammered. “I can hear you all the w-way in m-my room.”
“For goodness’ sake.” Miss Townsend hurried to close the door, but before she had quite shut it, a third visitor thrust his foot across the threshold. “Hugh, not now, please. We’re discussing a family matter.”
“Sounds more like a row than a discussion. Perhaps I can help.” The baronet pushed his way into the room. “If Antonia can be here, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be.”
“Hugh, this has nothing to do with you,” Miss Townsend said.
Miss Blair gave a mean little snigger. “Are you quite sure about that, Veronica? How do you know your brother didn’t leave the Georgiana to Hugh?”
“To Hugh?” Ernest Shelton raised his voice, but no one paid him any attention.
“He’s Sir Hugh to you, Mildred,” said Miss Townsend, “and my brother would not have done any such thing.” Yet she sounded less than confident. Her eyes narrowed on Miss Blair. “What do you know? Did my brother tell you what’s in his will?”
Miss Blair laughed again. “If he did, it would have been in the strictest confidence, and I’m certainly not going to divulge a bit of it. You’ll have to wait for the reading.”
“The Georgiana, to me?” Sir Hugh looked positively gleeful. “Wouldn’t that have been splendid of the old boy? After all, Veronica, you don’t even like sailing. You’ve said as much.”
“Then why was she planning to sneak out there this afternoon?” Miss Blair tilted her head in mock interest.
Miss Townsend reddened with anger. “The vessel is sitting out there empty. Why shouldn’t I make use of it?”
“I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t,” Miss Blair said sweetly. “Because it isn’t yours, not yet at least, and your attempt to claim it for the purpose of selling it simply won’t wash.”
“Now, see here.” Mr. Shelton moved forward, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process. “No one is selling the Georgiana. If Gil left her to anyone, it’s probably me. And besides . . .” He turned toward Miss Blair. “You have been wrong about everything so far, Mildred. Wrong about the reading solving all our problems, wrong about Gil coming to his senses about that little wife of his, wrong that he would ever see reason. And now he’s dead, and we’re left in this briny pickle. As I told you on the Georgiana —”
“I’ve heard enough—as much as I can bear.” Miss Townsend flushed more violently still. “Get out, all of you.”
Miss Blair shrugged and turned on her heel. Still smiling, no doubt contemplating his possible good fortune, Sir Hugh followed, his hands in his trouser pockets as he ambled along. As he passed through the doorway, he began whistling a tune.
Ernest Shelton stood his ground. “I’m telling you, Veronica, as Gil’s heir, as I m-most certainly am, I will not stand for any chicanery on your part, just as I won’t stand for Mildred’s double-dealing.”
“Get off your high horse, Ernie. Even if you are Gil’s heir, the Georgiana isn’t part of the entail. There’s no reason to believe Gil left you anything he didn’t have to.” She scoffed, flicking a glance up and down Mr. Shelton’s length. “He didn’t even like you, and that’s to put it mildly.”
She couldn’t see his expression, but Eva heard Mr. Shelton’s sharp intake of breath. He turned about so suddenly, she started, and the animosity in his eyes struck her like daggers. He trudged away, and Eva came around the door.
“Huntford, are you still here?” Miss Townsend sounded weary. “Good. Please finish up with our things. As if I give a fig what that trollop says or thinks. I can very well do as I please. Isn’t that right, Antonia?”
Mrs. Seward had retreated to the far side of the beds during the argument, looking on with saucer-shaped eyes. Now she came confidently forward. “Indeed, you shall not take orders from such a one as she, Veronica. Huntford, you heard Miss Townsend. Finish packing our things.”
“I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but I have to go.” Eva bobbed a perfunctory curtsy.
Miss Townsend regarded her with mild amusement. “Don’t be silly. We need you.”
“Perhaps, but I just remembered something I must do for Lady Phoebe.”
“But you can’t just run off,” Mrs. Seward declared indignantly. “There’s work to be done.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Eva repeated, “but I don’t work for you.”
* * *
“They’re at each other’s throats over the will, my lady. It isn’t hard to imagine one of them having murdered Lord Annondale for what they would get in the bargain.”
Eva’s sardonic words had Phoebe picturing Gil’s small group of family and friends nearly coming to blows in their greed. Following the example of Mildred Blair and Ernest Shelton, she and Eva walked arm in arm along the Esplanade to ensure their privacy as they discussed what each had recently learned. The rush of the waves hitting the beach, along with the occasional motorcar along the roadway, provided ample noise to drown out the details of their conversation from unwanted ears.
“And now we know what Miss Blair and Mr. Shelton were discussing when they walked this route,” Eva continued “as well as the gist of their argument on the Georgiana before Lord Annondale died.”
Surprised, Phoebe brought them to a halt. “Ernie and Miss Blair argued on the Georgiana?”
“Oh, yes. In all the hullabaloo, I’d forgotten. It’s a long story, but Hetta overheard them having words.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” Phoebe pondered this information. “Do you think the pair were in on Gil’s death together?”
“If they were, they’re certainly not of a mind to cooperate with each other now.”
“Nothing about this situation is straightforward. Ernie and Miss Blair have been behaving suspiciously, but they certainly aren’t the only ones.” Phoebe released a breath and shook her head. “Veronica, Miss Blair, and Ernie each had a motive because of the will. Each stands to gain much more if Julia doesn’t have a child. Each of them might have gone to any length to try to prevent it.”
Eva nodded. “Miss Blair’s manner suggests she is more than a secretary. She is altogether too sure of herself.”
The harbor was a deep sapphire blue today; the waves were crested with flecks of foam. White sails flashed in the sun. From this distance, the Georgiana appeared serene, regal. But she possessed neither of those attributes. She was a place of violence and deception.
Phoebe said, “We’ve suspected from the first Miss Blair was Gil’s mistress.”
“Yes, but she may be more than that. Would a mistress speak so brazenly once her paramour was no longer there to protect her? A mistress stands to lose everything. Even though she’s named in the will, if the family put up enough of a legal fuss, they could block her inheriting. It seems to me a mistress would ingratiate herself as much as possible, rather than alienate everyone.”
“She certainly has a knack for that,” Phoebe agreed. “But what other role could she have played? Perhaps she knew something about Gil and held it over his head. Or perhaps she knows something about the family and can use it to get her way in the end. As Gil’s secretary, she would have access to information no one else had. Except perhaps the solicitor.”
“I’ve no doubt she believes she’ll have the last laugh. Ah, I almost forgot. I’ve also discovered how Miss Blair sent for the solicitor without anyone knowing. Hetta followed her into town, where she sent a telegram.” Eva’s mouth slanted. “Apparently, Hetta has a greater mastery of English than any of us guessed.”
“Does she?” Phoebe wondered what Julia would have to say about that. Then she turned her thoughts back to their suspects. “It would seem, then, that Miss Blair was eager to acquire whatever Gil left to her. Still, though, if she did have the means to blackmail him, why murder him? Why take the risk of being shut out from the money, not to mention losing her employment? It doesn’t quite add up. Now, Ernie . . . or Sir Hugh . . .” She kicked at a pebble in her path. “Sir Hugh is frightened of something. Hunted, not the
hunter.”
“We seem to be back where we started, my lady. A handful of suspects, each with a motive, but also with something to lose with Lord Annondale’s death.”
“It seems to me Ernest Shelton had the most to lose if Gil lived. And as Veronica Townsend said, Gil didn’t much like Ernie.”
“Miss Blair mentioned the entail. We don’t know what it’s worth, do we? Lord Annondale’s private assets might be more valuable than the estate. For instance, why were they fighting over who would take possession of the Georgiana? It could be that Lord Annondale’s wealth doesn’t lie so much with the hereditary estate, but with his business concerns.”
“Good heavens, yes. Legal and perhaps illegal business concerns. But I still don’t see how Ernie stood to lose anything with Gil’s death.”
“He might have hoped to eventually win over Lord Annondale’s favor, and with it more of his assets, along with the entail.”
“So then, your reasoning is that with Gil alive, Ernie had more time to change Gil’s opinion of him.” Phoebe considered. Given what she had witnessed on the Georgiana, it seemed unlikely Gil ever would have warmed toward his cousin, but Ernie might have taken a more optimistic outlook. The harbor once again drew her gaze, but this time she focused beyond it, on the blue-gray mainland to the north. “I can’t see beyond a simple fact. If Gil and Julia had a child, Ernie stood—or rather stands—to lose everything. But perhaps I should have a word with Mildred Blair about the solvency of the entail.”
They returned to the hotel soon after and parted ways. It took Phoebe some time to track down Mildred Blair, but eventually, she found the woman on the hotel’s public telephone. She would have liked to know whom the woman was speaking to, but she spoke in such low murmurs that Phoebe couldn’t make out the words without standing practically at Miss Blair’s elbow. She retreated into the lobby to wait, knowing Miss Blair would have to pass through on her way to any other part of the hotel.
She sat near the entrance to the corridor and armed herself with a handkerchief. When Miss Blair appeared, striding at her usual brisk pace, Phoebe came to her feet, raised the handkerchief to her eyes, and stepped into the secretary’s path.
A Murderous Marriage Page 22
