by Clare Jayne
Chapter Twenty
RABBIE WAS pronounced nearly well again by the physician the next morning, which was happy news for everyone, including the patient. Ewan had told Ishbel what his valet had said about his attack and what Mr Gell’s footmen had said, the likely conclusion being that Mr Gell was innocent of both the violence upon Rabbie and the murder. After all, Mr Gell would have no reason to kill Lord Strand if he wanted money from him. So Rabbie returned to his duties, although Ewan insisted he begin with a half-day and go home to rest and see his family after that.
Ishbel was glad that the valet had not been injured due to following their orders, but she knew she would still hesitate before allowing the servants to get involved in such matters again and, having discussed it with him, she was aware that Ewan felt the same way. It was easy for her to get caught up in the intellectual puzzle that solving a murder provided and to forget the dangers inherent in it.
Around mid-morning, a card was delivered to them from Lady Strand, asking them to call, which came as a welcome surprise. Interested to hear what she had to say about the murder, they wasted no time in obeying her request, returning to the house the new Lord Strand had been so keen to see them leave less than a week ago.
“I understand from my son that you are interested in finding my late husband’s killer and we are both very grateful for any assistance you can give Mr Williamson,” she said as they all sat in her drawing room, sipping tea.
That was certainly not the impression her son had given them and Ishbel took a moment to study her. Lady Strand still had the wide, soulful eyes and full lips that would have made her a beauty when she was younger, but now there were heavy lines across her forehead and around her eyes. She also had an anxious way of speaking and sat stiffly opposite them. It might have been that the murder of her husband was the source of her nervous demeanour but, from everything they had found out, Ishbel suspected that the woman had been unhappy for a lot longer, forced to feign pleasure in her life while living alongside a man who was hypocritical enough to harshly criticise her behaviour while conducting sordid affairs. Ishbel did not know what she herself might be capable of in such a soul-destroying situation.
Lady Strand continued, “It is actually another matter that I asked to see you over. I hope you will not be offended at my request for help.”
“Of course not,” Ishbel said. “This is a troublesome time for you and we would be pleased to assist you in any way.”
She smiled. “That is good of you. The fact is that someone broke into this house last night and attempted to break into my husband’s safe. My son’s safe now, of course. I have been sleeping badly since I came back to Edinburgh and I heard a noise and saw the thief.”
“How appalling,” Ewan said. “He did not try to harm you?”
“Fortunately, no. When he saw me coming down the stairs with a candle he turned and ran, getting out of the house by the window he had broken to gain entrance.”
“Do you think you could describe him to us?” Ishbel asked.
“A bit. Enough, I hope, for him to be found. He had long fair hair and looked to be a young man of perhaps one and twenty, dressed in coarse clothes. When he turned away I saw that a piece of his ear – the left one – was missing.”
“We will have someone search for him immediately,” Ewan said.
“Oh, thank you.” There were tears of relief in her eyes. “Excuse me for becoming emotional but there has been so much to worry about since my husband’s death and this was just too much.”
“That is entirely understandable,” Ishbel said. “Please leave it to us and try to put the subject from your mind.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Incidentally,” she added, “did the thief manage to get into the safe?”
“No.”
“And do you know what might have been in there that someone would want to steal?”
“Money, I suppose. My husband never showed me what he kept there and I have not seen inside it since his death. The thief did take my husband’s fob watch, though, and, for some reason, an embroidered handkerchief of mine.”
She gave them a description of the items and they left the house. Ishbel wondered if the thief could have been injured and needed the kerchief for a wound. As they got into the carriage, she said, “Did you note that Lady Strand said she had only slept badly since coming back to Edinburgh?”
“I did not,” Ewan answered, clearly not following her thoughts.
“Do you not think it strange that she stayed alone in the house where her husband died immediately following his death and that she apparently slept perfectly well?”
Chapter Twenty-One
ISHBEL AND Ewan sent for Jed Cassell when they got back home and he came at once. Ishbel had been reading in the library, her studies having been neglected of late, and he and Ewan joined her there, Jed’s muscular form making the room seem small. They all sat down near to the fire, surrounded by full-length bookcases and tables piled up with yet more books, and she and Ewan told Jed about the attempted theft at Lady Strand’s house.
“Could the thief have worked for Mr Gell?” she asked her husband.
“Perhaps but we do not yet have any evidence to suggest Gell would resort to such tactics.” He turned to their guest. “Have you managed to find out anything more about Lord Strand’s guests?”
“Not much so far, sir. No one has heard anything about Lady Tabor’s marriage being an unhappy one and if she was having an affair with Lord Strand, no one knew of it. He has had any number of such relationships but her reputation is impeccable. She married a man of her own choosing and there is no evidence that she turned to anyone else.”
“She might have simply been extremely discreet about it,” Ishbel said.
“Aye, that’s possible. As for Mr Gell, he inherited what the wealthy would call a modest sum, one that he doesna seem happy with. He has money in the shipping business and regularly asks his wealthier acquaintances to invest in that or some other venture. It seems to be felt that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, so he’s finding fewer and fewer people who are willing to trust him with their money.”
“Then he must have been desperate to get Lord Strand involved,” Ewan said, looking from Jed to Ishbel.
“The late Lord Strand didna get so wealthy by backing everyone who asked him for money,” Jed told them. “Unlike Mr Gell, Lord Strand’s investments tended to be a great success, largely because he hired solicitors and bankers to check into the businesses he was interested in.”
“So he might never have intended to support Mr Gell,” Ishbel mused, thinking that this left them none the wiser about Mr Gell.
“The other person you asked me to look into was Mr McIntoll,” Jed reminded them and Ishbel recalled the bearded man they had met who had said that many people must have wanted to see Lord Strand dead. He had answered their questions readily and she had not considered him to be a serious suspect at the time. “He and Lord Strand had known each other for decades, since they were young, although there were a number of fallings out between them.”
“Do you know why?” she asked.
“Not really, Ma’am. Lord Strand often offended people apparently. He was a nasty one, insulting his wife and son all the time and firing servants for the smallest reason.”
“Mr McIntoll suggested the same thing to us,” she said. “He might have been annoyed with Lord Strand on occasion but so far he seems to have no reason to suddenly have wanted him dead.”
“Could one of the servants in the house with Lord Strand have had a grudge, do you think?” Ewan asked.
“It’s possible. I can find out more.”
“Good.” Ewan nodded and reached for his money bag, getting out a couple more coins to give to Jed, who thanked him and pocketed them. “Would you come to us straight away if you find out the identity of the thief?”
“Of course, sir.”
The caddie left them to consider what he had revealed. They sat down
beside the glowing fire and Ishbel thought about their suspects. “We still do not seem to have taken anyone off our potential murderers list, although Mr Gell seems to have little to gain from killing Lord Strand and, if he still hoped for money, something to lose.”
“Unless Lord Strand turned him down absolutely and Gell killed him out of anger, although where he would have got the poison from is a mystery.”
She sat up straighter. “Perhaps that is something we can find out. Mr Williamson told us that the poison contained hemlock, which I cannot believe would have been already in his house.”
“It would not be used to kill rats or other vermin?”
“No. Arsenic is the common poison in such mixtures.” The subject had been discussed at length in a number of the medical lectures she had attended, because it was necessary for the poison to be identified in order to treat someone.
“Then where would hemlock be purchased?”
She considered this. “An apothecary could get into serious trouble for selling something so lethal so even if one did so they would not admit it. A physician might use a tiny amount of hemlock in certain medicines, particularly the leaves and seeds, which can make a person ill but are not dangerous. It is the hemlock root that is deadly and this is more rare. There are merchants who sell medicines and someone immoral might be persuaded to obtain and sell hemlock root in its pure form.” She grimaced. “But they would not admit to it either as they might be hanged for it. No, it was a poor suggestion of mine.”
“It was worth considering,” he answered, leaning forward to take her hand. His touch made everything else fade, even the murder, and she thought she would be happy the rest of her life to have Ewan as her husband. They looked at each other, sparks kindling between them, and then, of course, a maid came in to see to the fire.
Ewan let go of her hand and sat back with a rueful expression. It was amazing how little privacy it was possible to have in one’s own home.
“Perhaps we should speak again to Mr Williamson,” she said as the maid leaned down beside them to add extra wood to the fire, before departing again, “and see if he is willing to agree to an exchange of information. We have discovered some facts and he might have some different information that would let us all progress in solving the crime.”
“You are right: it could be useful.” He looked over at the clock beside the window and she noticed that it was time to dress for dinner. “It is too late to leave now but I shall send one of the footmen to see if Mr Williamson is able to speak to us tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
HAVING RECEIVED a card from her brother Eddie – since he was no longer allowed entry to the family home – that he was back in Edinburgh at last, Fiona Chiverton took a sedan chair to the home he shared with Alex.
The actor answered the door and she hugged him and then hurried inside to rush into her brother’s arms. “I have missed you both so much,” she said, embarrassed to find tears in her eyes.
“McDonald told me last night about the ordeal you both faced having someone killed in the house you were staying in,” Eddie said, keeping an arm around her shoulders as they all walked into the dining room. She felt an odd mix of feelings at the mention of Mr McDonald: her usual irritation towards him mixed with regret that he was annoyed over her relationship, such as it was, with Mr Gell.
“Oh, I did not mean that. That was nothing.” It was, perhaps, odd that the murder had been the least unpleasant part of her stay, but Lord Strand had been an exceptionally horrible man. She tried to put into words the real problems in her life as she made herself comfortable on the window seat, while Alex turned a dining room chair towards them and sat down, and Eddie perched on a coffee table. “I am trying to help Mr and Mrs MacPherson catch the murderer and that has led to some uncomfortable situations, while Papa is growing more determined to see me marry as soon as possible.”
“McDonald mentioned something about a potential murderer courting you.” Eddie sounded more amused than worried by this, so she assumed he had not taken Mr McDonald too seriously, although it annoyed her that his friend had tried to interfere in her life yet again. Her annoyance at Mr McDonald had been fading after his clumsy attempts to protect her but now it flared up again.
“I certainly have no intention of marrying Mr Gell.” Despite his attractive looks and attentiveness to her, she could not warm to him. She could not explain why but there was something about him she did not trust.
“But he might be the killer?” Eddie asked.
“Well, yes, but you see that is the only reason why I danced with him. I wished to ask him questions and I did find out a few useful facts to share with Mrs MacPherson, but now he is calling and bringing me flowers and I do not know how to get rid of him.”
“If you are determined to dance with murderers,” Alex said cheerfully, “at least you will be better off when you’re wed, since they won’t be able to court you, so if it offers nothing else matrimony has that in its favour.”
They laughed and she thought about the protection marriage would bring to her, but she became serious again when she considered all the disagreeable repercussions it might have. “With the kind of man my father would like me to marry, I should think I would barely be allowed out of the house. You know how grimly he approaches life and how he believes women will become immoral unless they are constantly told how to behave by men. I must choose someone myself, but I do not know where to start; I seem to have turned down a number of men who, now that the matter is becoming pressing, might not have actually been so bad.”
“I would not wish you with a husband you merely consider ‘not so bad’,” Eddie said and Alex made a sound of agreement.
“Neither would I,” she said, unhappy at the thought, “but that is beginning to seem like my best choice.”
“Is there no one else you feel any affection for? McDonald, for example.”
She stared at him in shock, wondering where such an idea could have come from. As if either one of them would want that. “Eddie, I wonder how you can be my brother and know me so little. Mr McDonald would make an appalling husband for me. He is patronising and irritating and he tries to tell me what to do all the time. Why would you possibly suggest such a person?”
He hesitated and glanced at Alex, then shrugged and offered them both his usual easy smile. “It was just a passing thought and clearly a bad one. It would simply be nice to see you married to someone who was willing to allow me in the house.”
She grimaced at the fact that this was a genuine concern. Even though only their family and a few trusted friends knew the nature of his relationship with Alex, it was enough that he chose to openly spend time with an actor to make his company undesirable to many people. “My life is such a terrible mess.”
“Then we have returned just in time to help you resolve it,” Eddie said as if nothing could be simpler.
She could not imagine it would be so easy but it was agreeable to let herself believe her brother could make everything turn out well.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ISHBEL AND Ewan arrived at Mr Williamson’s home the next morning to find him waiting for them in the parlour with a journal full of notes about the murder, which pleased Ishbel’s orderly mind. The sounds of children’s voices drifted in from the open window and she glanced out and smiled at the sight of two children having a fit of the giggles while their mother watched them from a nearby bench, another child in her arms.
“I can close the window if you find it noisy,” Mr Williamson said.
Ewan had no objection to the sounds, nor to the temperature since the day was unexpectedly mild, and Ishbel said, “It is not distracting and it must be pleasant for you to have your family around you while you are here.”
“It is indeed,” he said, his eyes brightening at the subject.
They sat down and Ishbel mentioned her thoughts about the hemlock. “It probably cannot help us now,” she concluded, “but if we have a definite person we s
uspect of the murder, then finding the person who supplied them with hemlock could provide strong evidence against them.”
“That is an excellent point,” he said, making a note that the hemlock root was the deadly part of the plant.
They told him what else Jed had discovered and he reciprocated by letting them know of his own progress. “I conducted a second interview of the servants at Lord Strand’s country estate. I have found no one among them to suspect and most of the staff bedrooms have two beds, with servants sharing a room. They were also kept awake long after midnight cleaning up after the dinner party, so they saw each other at that time.”
“Someone could have slipped out of a bedroom when the other servant was asleep but it would be risky,” Ewan said.
“Particularly since the general maid was awake at five in the morning to begin lighting fires in the house. She started in the kitchen but had to help the scullery maid heating water to wash dishes that there had been no time to clean the previous night. The maid only then continued with her duty of lighting fires and reached the study at around eight, discovering Lord Strand’s body at that time. I got the impression that none of the servants felt Lord Strand’s death was a particular loss but I have found no reason for any of them to want to harm him.
“Did any of them see any of the guests awake after the dinner party?” Ishbel asked.
“They saw a number of guests after midnight, although most people were sending for their own servants and preparing to retire. The married guests told me that their spouses were with them all night, although someone could have lied. Lady Tabor was seen downstairs after midnight and no one knew what she was doing; she told me that she was simply too restless to sleep but that she never saw Lord Strand. Both Mr McIntoll and Mr Gell were still awake after midnight, although Mr Gell claimed that he went for a stroll outside and saw no one else and Mr McIntoll said he fetched a book from the library and then went to bed.”
