“Very well. I shall leave you both in peace.” He spun around and walked swiftly back to the house.
Oscar Brodie was as guilty as sin, but Theodore needed to fill in all the gaps – Inspector Wilbred would pick holes in anything that was less than watertight, and Theodore had no intention of suffering humiliation at the hands of a man like him.
Nineteen
A policeman arrived somewhat unexpectedly as they were all sitting down to dinner. He stood in the doorway, clutching his helmet, looking supremely awkward. “Inspector Wilbred has insisted that I remain here while there is any hint of danger to the occupants of this household, sir,” he said, addressing Percy.
Lady Agnes nodded furiously in agreement and Adelia felt a wave of relief wash over herself. She had been afraid that Inspector Wilbred would simply walk away from the whole affair. She had spoken hastily with Theodore just before going in to dinner and had been astonished that Wilbred had not been taking things seriously. She was concerned that Percy was in very real danger, and she was infuriated that no one else seemed to be reacting in the right way.
Theodore had said, somewhat ruefully, that he shared her exasperation. She wondered if Percy actually enjoyed the frisson of excitement. While he was travelling, he encountered mortal danger every single day; now he had it all around him in his own home. Perhaps he liked it.
So it was a relief to her when the policeman made his announcement although he then remained stubbornly by the door as they ate. Eventually Percy burst out with a cry. “Are you going to dog my steps all night, man?”
“Yes, sir. Those are my orders,” the policeman replied.
“Even when I retire to my chamber and visit my wife in the night?”
Adelia nearly swallowed her tongue in shock and The Countess, whose hearing was definitely not dimmed this particular day, hissed.
The policeman went as red as a beetroot but remained at his post. “I will be in the corridor at all times, sir. And I am informed that Lady Buckshaw is unwell.”
“You were informed, were you? Who by? What did they say? Were you one of those who were here earlier?”
“No, sir. I am only just come onto shift. I was advised that Lady Buckshaw was unable to be interviewed today as she is in a state of shock but that she must be spoken to at the earliest opportunity.”
“You are not here for me!” Percy said angrily. “I see it now. You are not here to protect me. No, you are here to monitor my wife, and you will send word to your idiot inspector the moment you feel she can be questioned, won’t you?”
“Why would he do that?” Lady Agnes said in alarm.
Percy pointed his finger over the table at the policeman. “I have heard the mutterings. I endured that inspector’s clumsy attempt at interrogation. They are not looking for anyone outside of the house who might be responsible, and they don’t think the murderer is a servant either, do they?”
Adelia said, “Percy, no! We are all overwrought. Let the man do his job.” But of course, Inspector Wilbred had seen Felicia’s reaction. He had heard her screaming that she had wanted to kill Percy.
Wilbred knew that Felicia was unhinged.
And now he was going to find the evidence that she did it.
“His job? But his job is to spy on my own wife and try to frame her for murder, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” Percy yelled, getting to his feet.
“Sir, I am here to ensure the protection of the household.”
Percy rested his fists on the table, glaring at the policeman, his shoulders hunched and his lined face taut and unhappy. “This is such a mess,” he whispered.
“Please, sit down,” Lady Agnes begged.
He blinked, and stood up straight. “I am going to bed.” He left the table, throwing down his napkin in a crumpled heap. As he passed the still-red policeman, he said, “Now what will you choose to do? Will you come with me, or stay here to protect the majority?”
“I have my orders, sir,” the policeman said, and followed Percy out of the room.
FELICIA REMAINED IN an incoherent stupor but at midday the following day, a doctor arrived. Adelia had written in a passionate fury to Mrs Carstairs, begging her for the highest recommendation possible, and the sainted Mrs Carstairs had utilised every influence at her disposal to have Doctor Netherfield arrive almost instantly with an overnight bag in one hand, a medical case in the other, and a reassuringly calm manner all over.
“You must get on most cordially with him and if you don’t, then you must avoid him at all times and allow him to do his job without interference,” Adelia warned Theodore as they watched the doctor alight from the carriage. They were inside, looking out from an upstairs window.
Theodore looked hurt. “He is a doctor! Of course I am going to get on well with him. Indeed, I am looking forward to learning of the latest thinking in the treatment of brain disorders.”
“Come with me. I haven’t actually told Percy what I’ve done, yet. Let’s go and greet the doctor and you can take him to see Felicia while I deal with Percy,” she said, and ignored Theodore’s tut of disapproval. She was calculating that Percy would not embarrass the doctor by throwing him out as soon as he arrived.
In the event, Percy gave up with a minimal amount of protest. He had not left Felicia’s bedside since the dinner the previous evening, and had clearly begun to understand that her current attack was on a level not seen before. He didn’t exactly welcome the new doctor in with open arms, but he didn’t prevent him from entering alongside Theodore.
Doctor Netherfield was in his late fifties, and hale and hearty. He was a great fan of the benefits of drinking
