by Clare Jayne
“So is Miss Chiverton.”
“Oh, yes, you are right. Perhaps they were delayed.”
“Miss Chiverton would have arrived with the rest of her family if she intended to be here,” McDonald said and gave a slight bow to Mrs MacPherson as she joined them and took her husband’s arm. She was wearing a green silk gown that emphasised the bright colour of her hair and her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the room. It was strange, McDonald thought, how the beauty of one woman could have no effect on a man, when the loveliness of another could brighten his world. He had come to admire Mrs MacPherson, though, and envied his friend for having such an affectionate marriage.
“I am starting to think that Mr Gell might be a more likely killer than the new Lord Strand,” Mrs MacPherson commented and McDonald rolled his eyes. Must their hobby be the only subject they conversed about? “Lord Strand seemed genuinely shocked at the idea that Mr McIntoll might be the murderer and would he have reacted that way if he knew Mr McIntoll was innocent because he himself was the guilty person?”
McDonald did not even try to make sense of this, his attention wandering. He nodded to Mr Henry Chiverton, who strolled over. After exchanging greetings, McDonald said, “Is your sister not with you tonight?”
Mr Chiverton’s mouth flattened into a flat line and he remained silent for long enough for McDonald to exchange a puzzled look with MacPherson. “No, she is not.”
“I trust Miss Chiverton is not unwell?” Mrs MacPherson said.
“No. She is... indisposed.”
That was an odd thing for him to say. In what way could the lady be indisposed? Was she being punished for some transgression? Why then was Chiverton also absent, when he had intended to be here?
“Perhaps your father thought Miss Chiverton should not be seen in public after her recent behaviour,” a voice said nastily and they turned to see Mr Gell behind them.
Mr Chiverton returned Gell’s glare with an equal measure of ill-feeling. “My sister has done nothing to warrant censure. Indeed, I think she has made some wise choices lately.”
Gell’s anger changed to fury. “You might believe that but I doubt society would approve of a young lady with such fickle emotions.”
McDonald punched him. Gell fell to the ground and put an unsteady hand to his bleeding lip. “If you say anything publicly to damage the lady’s reputation, you will have to meet me in a duel.”
Another man helped Gell to his feet and he shot McDonald a nervous look before retreating. It was only then that McDonald noticed the crowd around them, watching this and whispering amongst themselves.
He turned back to his acquaintances and Mr Chiverton hissed, “You fool! The last thing you have done is protect my sister’s reputation. Unless an engagement is quickly announced between the two of you, she will be the subject of gossip for the rest of her life.”
He stalked off, returning to his family where he would no doubt apprise them of the mess McDonald had made, when all he had wanted to do was help. “Damnation,” he swore and then apologised to Mrs MacPherson for using such language.
“It would have been worse for Miss Chiverton if Mr Gell had blackened her name and labelled her inconstant in her affections,” Mrs MacPherson said quietly. “You acted for the best.”
“That is right,” MacPherson agreed. “This will resolve itself soon enough.”
“But if Miss Chiverton were persuaded by her family to marry me against her will, she would never forgive me.” McDonald swallowed, imagining her reaction. She would hate him for this.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I WONDER if I have done you a disservice in being so open about my life.”
Fiona Chiverton looked at her brother in surprise. “That is ridiculous. Why would you say such a thing?”
They were standing in the ballroom where Lord Strand had said that he would come to her bed chamber. She had been looking around the house, trying to piece together everything she remembered, telling Eddie about it as she did so.
“I think that you might have got the view that all relationships must be based on excitement and wild adventures. I have an unconventional romance with Alex and Mr and Mrs MacPherson, whom you admire, spend half their time hunting down murderers.”
She thought about it and realised there was some element of truth in his words. “I suppose I would like a dashing husband. I must be like you in that respect.”
“But you do not see the ordinary side of what I share with Alex. You would probably be astonished to realise how much time we spend quietly at home enjoying each other’s company, in exactly the same way as married people, whom you would dismiss as dull, spend their time. Those are the moments that are most precious to me: I would never go out to society events by choice except that I must keep up the appearance of being a bachelor with at least a vague interest in matrimony.”
“But you enjoyed travelling recently,” she suggested.
“So do many people. You could probably go to the continent on your honeymoon.”
“I can see why you are saying this,” she told him, wandering through the vast echoing space, Eddie following. “You wish me to consider your friend, Mr McDonald.”
“I want you to choose whatever man you like the best. I simply do not wish to see you waiting around for some fairytale knight and missing the goodness in someone you might have already met. You do not still harbour an affection for MacPherson, do you?”
She spun round. “You knew about that? How embarrassing! No, I no longer regard him in any romantic way but perhaps I hold up other gentlemen’s characters against his and find them wanting. He treats women as intelligent people who can make their own decisions and not as children, who must constantly be given orders. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life locked up inside some grand house. I do not wish for my opinions to be constantly ignored or, worse, for a man to tell me what I should think and feel.”
“Not every man is like Father.”
“No? Lord Strand seemed similar.” She remembered Lady Strand’s face at the dinner table when her husband had belittled her. She could not bear to live such a life. “Mr McDonald has a good heart, I am sure, but he has always tried to order me about and keep me from doing anything interesting. Mr Gell, he says, was only interested in my family’s money. So whom should I marry?”
“I do not know.” He pulled her into his arms. “I wish I could help you but this is your decision and one you must make soon.”
“Then I had better do some thinking,” she said, trying to sound calm and not terrified. “I will retire for the night.”
“Good night, Fiona.”
She left him and walked upstairs to the room that had been prepared for her. It was not the same one she had been given before, but the decorations were similar. Every sound had made her jump, as she had been convinced Lord Strand would appear and try to ravish her. And she had liked him when she first met him. It seemed impossible now but he had seemed good-natured and charming. Was that why she doubted her own judgement of men now? She had met some worthy men last year and refused a good many proposals because she had been convinced none of them were right for her. Perhaps she should have asked for more time to get to know them; maybe she had turned away someone who could have made her happy.
Perhaps the fates had never intended for her to be loved, but only to get a glimpse of the joy others experienced before being forced into a cold marriage that slowly destroyed all her spirit.
She tried to pull herself out of this self-pitying state of mind but she could picture nothing good in her future.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ISHBEL ATTENDED a lecture at the university and arrived home at the same time as an unknown carriage came to a halt and George Williamson stepped out. She greeted him and he returned it but his countenance was so grave that she knew something troubling must have happened.
He accompanied her inside and they joined Ewan in the library, where she saw that her husband had been reading one of her medical texts. In o
ther circumstances she would have commented on it but she was curious to hear what news their guest had for them.
Ewan ordered refreshments and she sat beside him on a chaise longue while Mr Williamson took the seat nearer to the fire and said, “Another murder has been committed.”
“Who?” Ishbel asked, all other thoughts forgotten.
“Lady Strand. She was found this morning in the garden behind the family’s city house. She had been strangled.”
Ishbel looked at Ewan, struggling to take this in. She remembered their meeting with the woman, whose troubled appearance now took on a more sinister meaning. Perhaps she had somehow suspected that she too was in danger. Ishbel mentally ran through the knowledge they had so far gained and could find no way to make this murder fit with what they had discovered. “This makes no sense or, if it does, it suggests that the killer is not even on our list of suspects, since I can think of no motive for anyone to kill Lady Strand.”
Mr Williamson grimaced and stood up to pace the room. “I had hoped that you might have discovered something I missed. I am at just as much of a loss. Lord and Lady Strand were married so they must have been killed by the same person but, as far as I have found out, Lady Strand was a docile, unhappy woman who seems to have offended no one. Her son might have had a reason to kill his father and inherit the estate but he is devastated by his mother’s death. I cannot believe that he could be responsible. Mr Gell, who we thought most likely to be guilty of the late Lord Strand’s murder, seems to have had no relationship at all with her. They were introduced but, by all accounts, barely spoke to each other. Why would anyone do it?”
“If we rule out the young Lord Strand, I think we must also acquit Mr McIntoll of the crime, since everyone has said he was fond of Lady Strand,” Ishbel said. “As you say, Mr Gell seems to lack any reason for this. Who does that leave?”
“Lady Tabor?” Ewan suggested doubtfully. “If she did have an affair with the late Lord Strand... No, it still makes no sense.”
Ishbel turned to the tall man who had paused by the window to listen to them. “Is there anyone else you suspect?”
“Other than Mr Gell, I must admit that the new Lord Strand seemed the most likely person to have killed his father but, as I said, I am certain he would never have harmed his mother. From what I saw, they had an affectionate relationship. I think she did her best to protect him from his father’s bad temper and he was grateful to her and equally protective.”
“Was there anything in the late Lord Strand’s Will that we do not know about?” Ewan asked Mr Williamson. “Any bequest made to Lady Strand that would pass on to someone else on her death?”
“That is a useful idea. I know that the estate itself passed to the son, but there were a number of small bequests, including ones to Lady Strand. I can recall nothing so valuable that it would lead to murder but I will speak to the solicitor involved and find out more.”
“The only other possibility I can think of would be some manner of vendetta against the whole family,” Ishbel suggested. “If someone felt they had been wronged, they might take it out on both Lord and Lady Strand. We could ask Jed to look into it.” They had mentioned the caddie to Mr Williamson before so he nodded in understanding.
“I am glad I came here,” Mr Williamson said. “You have put us on a new path that I believe might prove fruitful.”
Ishbel hoped he was right. She could feel nothing but bewilderment over this new murder, being unable to fit it in any way with the first crime.
Chapter Thirty-Five
MISS CHIVERTON stepped inside her family home with the same heavy steps that someone might have taken in walking into a gaol. She had left with no word of where she was going, having turned down yet another suitor and now she would have to face the repercussions of her actions. Her idea of going away to consider her future had led nowhere: she had no man of her own choosing to recommend to her family.
“Is my father home?” she asked the butler.
“No, Miss. He and Mr Henry are having luncheon at their club.”
She gave a sigh of relief. She was more than willing to accept a brief respite from punishment. The butler ordered a footman to carry her travelling trunk upstairs and, once he had done so and left, she had her maid bring her a bowl of warm water so she could wash and change from her walking dress to a more simple morning gown.
Her lady’s maid was still buttoning up the back of the dress when Anne burst into the bed chamber. “Finally, you are home! I fear your future has been decided for you in your absence.”
The breath left Fiona’s body and she felt chilled as she sat down on her bed. “Father has chosen a husband for me?” This was the worst thing that she could have imagined. She had met some of the harsh men he approved of.
“No. The matter was taken out of his hands.”
Fiona shook her head in confusion. “How could that be? No one could make a decision about my future except for him or me... unless Henry did something?”
“It was nothing like that.” Anne made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “This will be a lengthy discussion so you had better come downstairs and we can have some tea while we talk.”
Fiona could have shaken her. She wanted to know the worst right away but Anne was contrary enough that, if Fiona pressed her, she might refuse to explain any of this and leave it to the rest of the family to tell Fiona what was going on.
“Very well,” she agreed.
Her maid, having been unable to complete her task when Fiona sat down, hastily did up the last few buttons and grabbed the hairbrush from the dressing table. Fiona shook her head. Whether she looked a mess or not, this would have to do.
She walked down the staircase with Anne, half wishing she had taken the opportunity offered while she was gone to run away from them all, but she could not desert Eddie, not when she was the only one of them he could speak to any more. In any case, as she had previously realised, she had no possible way to survive on her own. She would have to accept their decision, no matter how appalling it was.
Anne led her into the drawing room and ordered the refreshments. Fiona thought bitterly that the other woman was enjoying stretching out the time so as to cause Fiona the most anxiety.
When they were both seated Anne said, “We were all extremely worried when you vanished. We thought you might have been harmed.”
She doubted they had thought anything like that but Anne would clearly say nothing until her own curiosity had been satisfied. “I took a short trip with Eddie so I could think about my future. I was afraid that turning down Mr Gell’s proposal would take the decision of my marriage out of my hands.” Something that seemed as if it were about to come true. “What did my father say?”
Once again, Anne delayed giving any reply about Fiona’s future. “When we made enquiries and discovered that your unfortunate brother, Mr Edward Chiverton, had also left unexpectedly we guessed that you had gone somewhere together. We were informed by an acquaintance of that brother that this was the case.” In other words, Alex had let them know she was not in trouble or danger. Anne continued, “When your father and Henry realised this they were angry in the extreme and agreed that they had given you too much freedom. They felt that a quick marriage was necessary for you.”
She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. “To whom?”
“They had not made a decision about that when we all attended a musical evening last night. Mr Gell was there and he made distressing remarks about your character. Mr McDonald was also present and he... It was extremely unpleasant.” Anne’s bright eyes and tone of voice did not suggest she had been alarmed by what had happened; quite the opposite, in fact. “Mr McDonald punched him.”
Fiona digested this information. She suddenly had an idea of where this was all leading. “Did anyone see this?”
“Everyone saw it,” Anne confirmed. “It could not have been more public. It will cause a scandal for all of us unless...”
“... Unless I b
ecome engaged to be married immediately.”
The final blow was one she had begun to anticipate: “To Mr McDonald.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
ISHBEL AND Ewan attended Lady Strand’s funeral the following morning. They had been issued with a card giving details of when it would take place by a messenger from Lord Strand and, although no letter was included, they concluded that he wished them to be involved in the investigation into her death. Ishbel had not liked the young Lord Strand but seeing him beside his mother’s grave, she felt sorry for him. All the grief he had failed to show over his father’s death was present now: he looked haggard and lost.
She recognised a lot of the people who were standing there in the rain. Many of them had not been present when the former Lord Strand died but, of those who had, Mr Gell and Mr McIntoll stood out. Both men were showing a solicitous support for the grief-stricken man and, if Lord Strand had been alarmed by the suggestion that Mr McIntoll might have been a suspect in his father’s death, he clearly did not regard him as such now. Mr McIntoll had a hand on his shoulder throughout the service and looked similarly distressed by the death. Lady Tabor and her husband, Ishbel noted, were not in attendance.
Mr Williamson was also there and he came to stand beside Ishbel and Ewan, evincing some curious looks from the people who knew who he was.
The service came to an end and the people headed to their carriages, many intending to go to Lord Strand’s house for the wake.
“Perhaps it would be better if we simply went home,” Ewan suggested and Ishbel was about to agree, not wishing to upset Lord Strand further by reminding him of the hunt for the murderer.
Mr Williamson answered instead. “No, Lord Strand wishes for your help with this matter. I told him of our last conversation and he wants to discuss it with you.”
“Today?” Ishbel asked, surprised.
“I impressed on him the need for the killer to be caught without delay since, if you are right about a vendetta against his family, it is possible that someone might also want him dead.”
