The Convenient Murder

by Clare Jayne

  Chapter Thirty

  ISHBEL WOULD never take the pleasure in balls that many other women seemed to, but since her marriage she viewed them with more confidence than before. No longer worrying about what people might be saying about her or afraid of what their reactions would be if she made a wrong step during a dance, she could concentrate on spending time with people she liked and on dancing with her husband.

  “We have some interesting company,” Ewan commented. He stood beside her in the private ballroom, which had richly painted images on the ceiling, marble arches and crystal candelabras. Its guests were equally fine, the wealthiest members of Edinburgh society, all dressed in grand outfits of silk and lace, and served by footmen in uniforms with bright gold buttons who wore white wigs. Between the music of the orchestra and the cacophony of voices, it was difficult to hear Ewan but his eyes were on one particular group.

  Ishbel followed his gaze and saw the new Lord Strand. He was laughing at something an attractive young lady was saying, the black band on his arm the only sign that he was in mourning. Ishbel looked about to see if his mother was there too but could see no sign of her. “Perhaps we should pay our respects.”

  “Indeed.”

  They drew closer and greeted Lord Strand, whose smile became slightly forced as he gave them a quick bow of acknowledgement. He excused himself from the group and they moved out of earshot of those around them, although Ishbel noticed that the woman he had been speaking to watched them with curiosity.

  “Do you have some news of this theft business?” the young lord asked.

  “We do, although I suspect you will not be glad to hear it,” Ewan said. “Is Lady Strand here tonight?”

  “No, Mama does not take much pleasure in these events anymore.”

  “The man who hired the thief was Mr McIntoll.”

  “What?” Lord Strand looked from one to the other of them in disbelief. “Mr McIntoll is almost family to us. You are mistaken.”

  “I fear we are not,” Ishbel said. “He was not looking to take anything of yours, only an antique that your father had won from him in a card game and refused to sell back.”

  “Then he could have just asked me and I would have returned it. That thief could have hurt Mama; she was thoroughly shaken by the experience. McIntoll is our oldest friend, someone who has been there my entire life. How could he have behaved like this?”

  “Perhaps he was too embarrassed to admit that he had lost a valuable heirloom in a foolish card game,” Ishbel suggested. “We are looking into the possibility that his reason was something more sinister, though.”

  Lord Strand frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She and Ewan glanced at each other and then he replied. “We have no evidence at present of who your father’s murderer could be, so we must suspect everyone who was present when he died. It is possible that Mr McIntoll killed him to get this antique back.”

  “Nonsense.” Lord Strand’s tone lacked conviction.

  “Does the King’s Messenger, Mr Williamson, have any stronger suspect?” Ewan asked.

  “Not that he has told me. You cannot really believe McIntoll would poison my father? They had known each other almost all their lives.”

  “It is just one idea we have,” Ishbel said, feeling the need to reassure him. He seemed more distressed at the idea McIntoll might be a killer than he did over his father’s death.

  “Is that Mr Gell?” Ewan asked.

  Both she and Lord Strand glanced behind them at the familiar red-haired gentleman. “Oh, yes. Gell has a wonderful scheme for making money that I am helping him with. How do you know him?”

  When Ewan looked blank-faced at this question, Ishbel hastily said, “Mr Gell is courting a young lady who is a friend of mine.”

  “Is he? We clearly have a good deal in common then, since I have also have it in mind to marry soon.”

  They left him to return to his acquaintances, observing as he slapped Gell on the back and conversed with him as if they were old friends.

  Ishbel watched them, her heartbeat quickening as she realised the significance of what they had learned. “So Mr Gell has found a way to get the money he desperately needed after all. It seems as if the death of the former Lord Strand has brought him benefit after all.”

  “His cousin could easily have provided him with poison.”

  “And he was seen downstairs by servants on the night that Lord Strand died,” Ishbel said, the pieces falling into place one after another.

  Could they have found their killer?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  LORD STRAND’S butler, not surprisingly, viewed Miss Chiverton and her brother with some puzzlement when they showed up at the country house with no warning or invitation.

  “I left a valuable brooch behind in my shock over his lordship’s death,” Miss Chiverton lied as they walked into the hall with its high beamed ceiling.

  “The maids have not reported finding anything like that to me,” the butler said. He was a stocky man, shorter than Eddie and his manner was diffident.

  “I expect it fell under some furniture in the bed chamber I slept in. The morning, as I am sure you recall, was a confusing one.”

  “Yes, of course, Miss.”

  “We do not wish to intrude but since the hour is growing late, we hoped to be invited to spend the night here before we return to Edinburgh,” Eddie said. “Is your master or mistress home?”

  “They are not.” This seemed to worry the man, as if he were failing somehow in his duties. “You will have no one to keep you company but I am sure they would expect me to extend the invitation in their absence.”

  “We are grateful to you,” Eddie told him with a smile. “Since our presence here is unexpected, please would you ask the cook not to prepare anything lavish for dinner. Travelling does not give either of us much appetite, so a simple meal would suit us well.”

  “If you say so, sir.” He told a footman to pass on this information and turned once again to the intruders. “Would you both come upstairs with me and Miss Chiverton can say which room she previously stayed in.”

  They followed him, Fiona reminded strongly of the last time she had been here. She could almost imagine that she heard the echo of Lord Strand’s voice or could see his overly attentive smile. She shuddered. Walking apace with her up the winding oak staircase, Eddie saw her reaction and gave her a questioning look. She shook her head, dismissing it. She had not yet told him what had occurred between Lord Strand and herself. She had not wanted to remember it.

  When they reached the upstairs corridor, the butler asked her, “Do you recall the room, Miss?”

  She had expected to know it immediately but the doors ahead of her were all identical. She thought back to that night and fought back another wave of revulsion. She told herself to stop being foolish – nothing had happened after all – but she still had the sense of Lord Strand’s presence here. “Well, the curtains were green. The wallpaper...” She closed her eyes to picture it and jumped at the touch on her arm. She looked round sharply but, of course, it was only Eddie. “... The wallpaper was yellow.” Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears and her brother was frowning, seeing too much.

  “Yes, I know which one you mean, Miss.” The butler walked forward and opened a door, gesturing inside. “This must be it.”

  She made herself enter the room. “Yes, this is the one.” She took the brooch from inside her hand muff, keeping it concealed inside her hand as she walked to the dresser. She made a show of looking on top of it and inside a couple of china bowls before kneeling down and pretending to feel under it.

  “Oh, I can move that for you, Miss,” the butler said, moving towards her.

  “There is no need.” She opened her hand so that he could see the brooch.

  “Excellent,” Eddie said heartily. “Father would have scolded you if you had lost that permanently.”

  “Yes. Thank you for your help,” she said to the butler.

  “Not
at all, Miss Chiverton. I am relieved that you have it back safely.” He walked back to the door. “Would you care for some refreshments while the rooms are being prepared for you?”

  They agreed, Fiona pinning the brooch to her coat as she walked out of the room. Her father would indeed have been annoyed if she misplaced it, but he would have been livid had he known she was here and the real reason for her visit.

  “You and the other staff here must have had a difficult time since his lordship’s death,” Eddie commented. “Is the new Lord Strand much like his father?”

  The butler hesitated over an answer before saying, “No, sir. Their temperaments are different.”

  “I found the late Lord Strand to be a confident, strong-willed gentleman,” Fiona said as they began to descend the stairs. “His son is perhaps less exacting?”

  “Yes, Miss. That is true and I think that Lady Strand might spend more time here while the young Lord Strand sees to business interests in the city.”

  “I did hear that Lady Strand remained here after her husband’s death,” Fiona said. “It surprised me that she would not be afraid after what happened. I certainly would have been.”

  “I believe she needed time alone to recover from his death. She is not a strong woman. The family physician gave her some potion to calm her and help her sleep.”

  Fiona listened to this with interest. She could not imagine Lady Strand working with a physician to kill her husband but an unscrupulous man might have given her the poison without asking questions. How would he react, though, if he learned how it had been used?

  “I am surprised that the killer has not yet been caught,” Eddie was saying as they entered the dining room, unadorned now, without the bowls of flowers and fruit from the dinner party the night before Lord Strand died. “I would have thought it would be easy to find the poison used to kill his lordship.”

  “Yes. It would ease all our minds to have the matter finished,” the butler said and added, “not that I intended that to sound callous.”

  “Not at all,” Eddie agreed. “I should imagine none of you would be able to relax much with such unpleasant suspicion and worry hanging over you.”

  “True, sir. A man sent by the King himself spoke to every servant here. It seems impossible but he appeared to think one of us might have harmed his lordship.”

  “Good lord!” Eddie looked as if he had been taking acting lessons from Alex. “I am sure you would have known if you worked with someone who hated Lord Strand that much.”

  “Why would any of us hate him?” the butler agreed. “He may have been an exacting man, as Miss Chiverton suggested, but he paid our wages and treated us fairly. Those that weren’t happy here were free to leave and a few did. The rest of us are grateful for the employment.”

  Fiona thought that the butler’s reaction ended any suspicion that it might have been a servant who killed the man. The butler would, after all, know the other staff well. Unless he was the killer. She tried not to dwell on this idea as he left them.

  Eddie sat down and frowned at her. “You have not told me everything about what happened here, have you?”

  She should have known he would realise it at once as he knew her better than anyone else. She told him about Lord Strand’s interest in her, what he had said, what Mr McDonald had said and about her unnerving night waiting to see if Lord Strand would appear at her door.

  “Why did you not take McDonald up on his offer to change rooms with you?”

  She grimaced. “I wished that I had later but, at the time, I had no reason to think the key would have been taken, preventing me from locking myself in.”

  “If that is the kind of man Lord Strand was, I have to say that I am glad he is dead,” Eddie said.

  “So am I. You cannot imagine my relief in the morning when his body was found, otherwise I would have had to spend another four nights being afraid of what he might do.”

  “Perhaps the poisoner was someone he treated in that way.”

  “Then I am not sure I would wish to see them punished,” Fiona admitted. “Had he tried to defile me, I would have defended myself in any way I could.”

  They broke off the conversation as a footman entered the room with a tea tray. Fiona sat down opposite her brother, who said to the servant, “My sister and I were just commenting on the bravery of all the staff from remaining here and continuing their work after such an ugly death.”

  The footman was younger than Eddie and did not look especially courageous. “It was a nasty shock, sir. None of us could really believe it had happened. I mean, you dinna expect it, do you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “The maid who found Lord Strand’s body must have been particularly distressed,” Fiona said.

  “Aye. She wasna fit to do any work for the rest of the morning and the rest of us still had to serve breakfast and run around getting everything ready for the sudden departures.”

  “I suppose the maid did not see anything that might help find the murderer?” she checked. The footman hesitated and she added, “We could confidentially pass on any information to those looking for the killer, so you could all feel more relaxed about being here.”

  “Well, there was one thing.” He paused again and glanced at the door before continuing, “I found Lady Tabor in Lord Strand’s bed chamber searching through his desk later in the morning.”

  “What was she looking for?” Eddie asked.

  “She said Lord Strand had taken something of hers as a prank but from what her lady’s maid said to one of our maids, I think he might have been blackmailing her somehow.”

  “I would not put it past him,” Fiona said in disgust and then realised it had been imprudent to say this to the footman. Since it was too late to take it back, she explained, “Lord Strand said something extremely improper to me. He seemed to care nothing for my reputation.”

  “Aye, that sounds like him.” The footman glanced round again and said quietly, “I shouldna tell you this but he was an evil man: he liked having control of others and being able to hurt them. The way he treated his wife and son... He didna beat them, but every day he would say how worthless they were and if they had anything they cared about, he would see it destroyed.”

  The butler entered the room so nothing more could be said but, if returning here was more unsettling than she had expected, Fiona felt they had at least made some interesting discoveries to share with their friends.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “PLEASE COME in,” Doctor Atwood said, looking startled at the sight of Ishbel, Ewan, Mr Williamson and the town guard they had brought with them. In light of the fact that Mr Gell had now gained money – in the form of the son’s investment – from the death of the late Lord Strand, Mr Williamson had decided that the case against him was strong enough to search for the poison, which would confirm the man’s guilt.

  The doctor’s office was not large and felt distinctly crowded as Mr Williamson explained how he came to be looking into the death of Lord Strand.

  The doctor made the connection between the dead man and Mr Gell before it was mentioned. “You think my cousin murdered someone?” The doctor’s horror at the idea looked genuine to Ishbel, but he could simply be appalled at the idea of being hanged for providing poison.

  “We are not yet certain of it but this is something I need to look into. Among the ingredients for your medicines do you stock hemlock?”

  “Aye. Most physicians do. ‘Tis used to treat kinkcough – whooping cough as it’s called in England.”

  “We are referring to hemlock root, not the plant’s leaves or seeds,” Ishbel clarified.

  “I dinna stock hemlock root. I never have.”

  “We will need to check you medicines, both here and at your home, to confirm that,” Mr Williamson said.

  The doctor did not look happy at the idea but she saw no fear in his eyes as he said, “Do what you must.”

  It did not surprise Ishbel when, two hours later, they had found no si
gn of hemlock root. “It is possible that he only obtained a small amount and gave it all to Mr Gell,” Mr Williamson said.

  “It is also possible that they are both innocent.”

  “I certainly cannot have Gell arrested as the matter stands.” He sighed, looking tired. “I had hoped to have this murder resolved tonight but it seems we must keep working on it.”

  * * *

  McDonald caught sight of Mr Henry Chiverton at the musical evening and looked round for Miss Chiverton. Ever since he had spoken to MacPherson he had been determined to express his feelings to the lady. He did not really believe that she liked him well enough to agree to marry him but there was a small flicker of hope in him that said there was still a chance.

  He could see Henry Chiverton’s wife and there was his mother, but he searched the room in vain for any sign of Miss Chiverton. He noted that the new Lord Strand was talking to a small group of young men and he frowned at the sight of Mr Gell standing with them, who was far too handsome and mercenary for his intentions towards Miss Chiverton to be trusted. It was the handsome aspect that was galling. McDonald liked to think that he had a number of agreeable characteristics but he could not deny that his appearance was nondescript, plain even, and there was not a thing he could do to change that.

  “Mr Gell is seeking to make young Lord Strand his closest friend, it seems,” MacPherson said, strolling to his side with a glass of wine in his hand.

  “Do not try to involve me in your suspicions,” McDonald told him. “Of all the people around you, I at least have no interest in catching killers and I would thank you to tell Miss Chiverton not to involve herself in such dangerous pursuits.”

  “I would not try to tell Miss Chiverton anything,” MacPherson said mildly, an irritatingly knowing look in his eyes, “but now that Chiverton is back in the city, I am sure he will see to it that she comes to no harm.” MacPherson glanced about. “I am sure Chiverton said he would be here tonight but he seems to be absent.”