“Have you noticed anything suspicious since your arrival at Beaumont Towers?” a very young and very eager inspector asked me when it was my turn to face the inquisition.
“I was surprised to see that Mr. Harrison carries a pistol under his jacket. Lord Fortescue is—was—an enemy of his. It’s possible—”
“Mr. Harrison’s gun was not used in the murder. Have you seen this weapon before, Lady Ashton?” He held it out for me to see.
“Yes, yes, I have.” Without thinking, I reached out for it.
He colored slightly and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he pulled it away from me. “When was that, ma’am?”
“Oh, heavens, I didn’t kill Lord Fortescue. I saw the gun in its case in the library when I was…” I paused, unsure if I ought to admit that I’d been rifling through the dead man’s possessions. “I was cataloging the art in the house.”
“Yes, well, I’m not quite certain how that would lead you to opening a pistol case.”
“I didn’t know what it was. I thought it might hold an artifact of some sort.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” I looked at him, holding my gaze steady. “But there was only one gun in the case. Its mate was missing. I can only assume this is it.”
“The case is empty now,” he said.
“Do you think that—”
He cut me off at once. “I won’t need anything further from you at the moment, Lady Ashton. Thank you for being so candid in answering my questions.”
Some hours later, three gentlemen from the Foreign Affairs Office and two of Lord Salisbury’s aides descended upon the house, having traveled by special train from London. They, along with Colin, Mr. Harrison, and Sir Thomas, sequestered themselves in the room that was to have been used for their political meeting. None of them had emerged since.
“I hate feeling so useless,” Mr. Clavell said, pacing the room in an agitated manner. I wondered if this was because his wife’s grief was making him face head-on her relationship with Lord Fortescue, or if it was because he worried that the affair might make him a suspect in the murder.
“Between the police and all the interested members of the government, the matter is well in hand,” I said. “You needn’t worry.”
“One of us must have seen something,” he said.
“The inspector is a competent bloke. He’ll sort it out,” Jeremy said.
“Ah, I see the countess is back. Excuse me—she may have noticed something out of the ordinary.”
Jeremy laughed softly while we watched Mr. Clavell approach the countess. “He is determined to keep busy, isn’t he?”
Robert had not appeared downstairs since the police had finished with him, but Ivy was with us, twisting her handkerchief, looking out the window. “This is too dreadful,” she said. I hesitated to reply, assuming that she was expressing concern for her husband. We had all witnessed the strife between him and Lord Fortescue. His position could not be a good one. “None of us liked him, but now we all feel terrible that he’s dead.”
“I don’t think anyone in this room feels the slightest regret at his death, and it’s the resulting guilt that’s filled us with gloom,” I said.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead, Emily,” she said.
“I didn’t. But you can’t tell me that you were fond of him.”
Jeremy took Ivy’s hand as he sat next to her. “He was awful, now he’s dead, and for once I have the opportunity to impress your dear friend with my knowledge of Homer. ‘It is not right to glory in the slain.’”
“The
“Oh, I don’t read. I skulk about in search of quotations that might make me appear educated.” This succeeded in making Ivy laugh. “Excellent. You’re lovely when you smile, Ivy. Don’t stop.” The concern in his eyes as he flashed me a glance told me that he was at least as worried as I about Robert.
I didn’t notice that Colin had entered the room until he touched my arm. “I need to speak with you. Will you come with me?” He kept his voice low.
“Of course.”
We excused ourselves and walked to the library, no words passing between us on the way. Only when he had closed the door and looked about the room, as if to ensure that no one else was with us, did he speak. “I’m afraid things have taken a rather serious turn. It’s obvious that Fortescue was murdered by someone at this party, and Ivy’s husband is the chief suspect.”
“He would never kill anyone!”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, but we all saw Fortescue verbally assault him and threaten to destroy his career.”
“But what about Gerald Clavell? If he knew his wife was having an affair with Lord Fortescue, he certainly has a motive for wanting him dead.”
“You’re certain they were having an affair?”
“Well, I can’t prove it, if that’s what you mean, but—”
“You’d have to be able to prove it. Yes, it might give him motive, but he did not have opportunity. He was shooting with us at the time of the murder. Robert is the only member of our party whose whereabouts cannot be confirmed at the time of Fortescue’s death.”
“He was with Ivy.”
“She was in their bedroom with her maid. He says he’d gone to collect some papers from the billiard room. No one saw him there.”
“Could he offer no further explanation?”
“He insists that Fortescue had received a warning in the past few days, threatening violence. Brandon’s convinced he was assassinated. But we’ve found no copy of any such letter, and no one else can corroborate the story.”
“Who sent it?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“What about Mr. Harrison?” I asked. “We’ve already established that he can’t be trusted.”
“He was standing next to me at the time of the murder.”
“Is there nothing you can do for Robert?”
“I wish there were, but I’m being sent to Berlin at once.”
“Because of this?”
“Yes. Fortescue’s death will have political implications, particularly as it relates to some trouble that’s been festering on the Continent. I can’t say more than that, except that I will miss you, so very much.”
“How long do you expect to be gone?”
“Indefinitely.”
“Doesn’t bode well for my plan to tempt you into marrying me before the summer,” I said.
“Then I won’t have to worry about falling from the queen’s good graces.”
“Unless you’ve time before you go. I’m free this afternoon.”
“If only,” he said, smiling.
I saw in his eyes all my own longing reflected, but instead of stepping towards him, I pulled away. “How is it that despite what you’ve just told me, despite the fact that a murder occurred here today, I’m overwhelmed at finding myself alone with you? I shouldn’t be capable of having these feelings at such a moment.”
“We don’t always have control over our desires,” he said.
“Hardly an encouraging thing to hear on the eve of your leaving me.” I tugged at his lapels. “What can I do to help Robert?”
“I don’t know, Emily. The situation’s grave. But if anyone’s capable of ferreting out what actually happened, it would be you.” It had been only a few months since I’d solved the murder of David Francis, and nearly a year since I’d discovered the truth about my husband’s death.
“The police would tell me nothing when they were questioning me,” I said.
