Chapter 21

For one long moment, I thought I'd heard Gage incorrectly. "I don't understand." I looked about me, seeking an explanation from those gathered around us. "We already know Branok's dead."

Gage's eyes were as hard as granite as he glared at Branok's relatives, specifically Bevil and Tristram. "No, we were only led to believe he was dead. Now he truly is."

My eyes flared wide, struggling to grasp all of the ramifications of this revelation.

"Then Tamsyn was correct," Lord Gage snapped. "She did see him striding about near the cliffs."

"Aye, and you finally tracked him down and killed him," Bevil snarled, pulling against Tristram's grip.

I reared in startlement, but Lord Gage faced this accusation with far more composure, narrowing his eyes to slits. "I didn't. Though it's quite convenient for you to accuse me so that you can avoid answering any of the difficult questions we shall be asking of you. Such as, why did you lie about his death and lure us here in the first place?"

"?'Twas all Branok's doing," Tristram replied only to have Bevil hush him. "Why? He's no longer alive to force us to do as we're told. So why should we keep quiet to save his skin."

"Shut yer gob," Bevil reiterated. "Or I'll shut it for ye."

Tristram glared daggers at his father but clamped his lips tight, turning away.

"I suppose that's the body," I asked now that I had myself more in hand.

"Yes," Gage answered me.

I began to cross the garden toward it. "Where is Mery?"

"Fetching a cart," he replied, confirming my suspicions.

"To transport him to Dr. Wolcott?"

"Yes."

"I'll go with him." My resolve hardened along with my countenance. "Dr. Wolcott already lied to us once. I'm not about to leave him alone with the body before I've had a chance to examine it."

Gage seemed relieved to hear it, but also ventured a more practical question. "What about Emma?"

"With any luck she'll sleep until morning, but Mrs. Mackay will know to use goat's milk if it becomes necessary."

Glancing over my shoulder, I discovered the others had followed us, crowding close to listen. I did my best to ignore them, adopting an air of brisk proficiency as I scrutinized what I could about the body through the sheet. I had been correct. There was a bloodstain corresponding to the upper-right portion of his chest, though not a large one. "Shot or stabbed?"

"Stabbed."

I nodded, beginning to pace around the body. "The weapon?"

"Not found."

I leaned closer to examine another stain near the top of the head, but straightened again at the harsh tone of Lord Gage's voice.

"I want to see him." His face was set in rigid lines, his gaze resolute. "To be sure."

He was right. Though I presumed Bevil and Tristram had already made the identification, that very act of naming this body had proved them unequivocally untrustworthy. We needed to be certain this time that Branok was truly dead, and neither Gage nor I could identify him. Only Lord Gage.

I opened my mouth to ask if he was sure he would still recognize him after nearly fifty years, but then let my lips fall shut. In spite of his animosity toward Branok, Lord Gage was bound to find viewing his uncle's lifeless body difficult enough without my belaboring the issue.

Slowly, I gripped the clean edge of the sheet and peeled it back from the face. There was no mistaking from Lord Gage's reaction that this time there were no tricks at play. That the man lying on the table before us with naught but a few wisps of gray hair clinging to his scalp was none other than Branok Roscarrock. Not when genuine pain flashed across my father-in-law's features followed by roiling anger. He nodded jerkily and turned away.

Hearing a hiccupped sob from one of the women present, I swiftly covered the body again, but not before noting that the stain I'd seen at the top of the sheet didn't seem to correspond to any injury on the head. It must have come from his surroundings.

"Where was he found?" I asked Gage.

"Out near Kellan Head, above Port Quin."

Approximately a mile then from Epphaven Cove. This was a far greater distance than it at first seemed, considering the twists and turns and changes in elevation along the coastal path, but still not far enough from where I'd located Lord Gage for my liking. Not that I believed my father-in-law had anything to do with his uncle's death. Not having just seen what state he'd been in. Unless his distress had also been the result of his having just murdered a man. Regardless, given his absence and proximity to where the body was found, he must be considered a suspect. His relatives certainly did so.

My anger flared hot, thinking of their deception. This all might have been avoided if they'd been truthful.

I tamped down my frustration, ordering my thoughts. "First things first," I informed Gage and anyone listening, for we could hardly keep from being heard. "Dr. Wolcott and I will examine the body. We should be able to determine the approximate time of death as well as more specifics about the weapon and the manner of attack." Though I suspected the culprit had already discarded the knife, likely hurling it into the sea.

"You…you're going to examine the body?" Dolly interrupted us to ask. Her eyes were wide with shock and possibly revulsion.

"It's what I do," I replied impassively, though I felt myself shrink a little bit inside. I'd faced such reactions many times, but it was never easy. Especially when they were from someone I considered a friend.

"I'll find out who last saw Branok alive," Gage said, his gaze shifting briefly over his shoulder to pin Bevil and Tristram. "And everyone's whereabouts since then."

I turned toward the rattle of approaching wheels. "And I'll speak with Mery."

"But you can't go with him alone," Gage protested, recognizing as I did that Mery still had the most to gain from his grandfather's death.

"I would suggest that Anderley accompany me, but apparently he's missing again," I muttered dryly.

Gage scowled in displeasure, but it never reached his eyes. Which told me my husband was not being entirely forthcoming about his valet. Had there been time, I would have pressed him, but given our audience and Branok's corpse, I held my peace.

"Then you should take Miss McEvoy," he insisted.

Bree stepped forward from the crowd of servants and I instructed her to fetch her cloak.

Mery's appearance was as disheveled as ever, but his expression inscrutable as he swung the cart around, halting next to the table where Branok's body lay. Gage pulled me aside, leaning close to speak into my ear. "I trust you took protection with you when you went in search of my father." There was a hint of reproof in his voice, and the look I gave him in return let him know I didn't appreciate it.

"Of course," I retorted in clipped tones, even then fingering the pistol still secured in my pocket.

"Don't hesitate to use it."

What precisely he expected, I didn't know, but I doubted Mery or Dr. Wolcott would attempt anything. Not when everyone knew where we were and what we were doing. Even so, I would be keeping a close eye on them both.

In short order, the body was loaded toward the back of the cart while Bree clambered into the front, sitting as far away from the corpse as possible. Lord Gage stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his eyes brooding, as I was helped up onto the perch beside Mery. I trusted Gage would ask for his assistance in questioning the others. That was, if Lord Gage didn't naturally insinuate himself as I expected.

We set off, the cart jouncing over the uneven ground until we reached the relatively smoother lane. We hadn't even passed through the pillars marking the turn from the manor's drive onto the road proper before Mery cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder. "Gage didn't trust ye alone with me, I see."

The drawl of his voice was biting, but I refused to be riled. "Well, you did lie." I turned to scour his features. "Even as recent as yesterday."

He glowered at me, and for a moment I thought he meant not to answer. "Aye, well, I was hardly given a choice." So he intended to blame Branok, then. Just like his cousin.

I turned away. "There's always a choice." Even out of the corner of my eye I could tell he didn't like hearing this. "Sometimes the circumstances are just more difficult than others."

"Aye, well, if I didn't want to be cut off without a farthing and thrown off the estate, I 'ad to do as Granfer wished."

I didn't emphasize that these were hardly the direst of circumstances, especially for a strong, young man who might have benefited from being forced to become industrious rather than lying around like a wastrel. Not when there was another point to be made.

"But now that Branok's dead, that's no longer the case. Now you can do whatever you wish."

I heard Bree shift behind me, perhaps worried this comment had been too confrontational, but I was simply stating the truth. This was something Mery couldn't refute, and judging by the hard line of his jaw, he knew it.

"He was in your cottage yesterday, wasn't he?" I demanded, realizing now why Mery had hustled me away.

A muscle jumped in his cheek, telling me just how hard he was clenching his teeth, struggling to restrain himself. "I suppose there's no point in denyin' it."

I waited as he clicked his teeth and flicked the reins, directing the horses to turn down the road that would lead to Trelights. My thoughts drifted back over the remainder of our conversation and Bevil's interruption. "Bevil worried you would reveal something to me. That's why you warned me about his interrogation."

Mery didn't bother to confirm or refute this because it was obvious.

I ducked my head as something swooped lower over us—perhaps a bat—before flying on. "And I suspect your attempting to persuade me that Branok's alleged fall from that cliff was an accident was not part of his plan."

Mery's head snapped around to look at me.

"Not after he'd already gone to so much trouble to draw us here by faking his murder."

"Ye should've gone," he snarled.

"We were going to. Tomorrow."

He looked like he didn't quite believe me.

"After all, there was no proof of foul play. Because there was no murder," I emphasized. My voice turned grim. "Until now."

We crested a small rise, and the trees arching overhead and the hedges bordering the road parted enough for us to see the sky and all the stars still twinkling overhead. Its beauty seemed a cruel juxtaposition to the gruesomeness of the cargo we carried behind us. Fortunately, the cold air would slow its decomposition.

The first cottage along the road leading into the village came into view, alerting me we would soon arrive at Dr. Wolcott's, so I bent my mind toward the questions that were most pressing.

"When did you last see your grandfather?"

Mery wore no hat, and I could see in the light of the carriage lantern that the tips of his ears were cold as he scraped his hand through his unruly blue-black locks. "Shortly after ye left for the Grenvilles. He knew while ye were away it would be safer for 'im to venture out."

"Did you follow him?"

He shot me an angry look. "Nay. I took myself off to the Golden Lion in Port Isaac. Ran into your husband searchin' for his father on my way 'ome." His tone was heavy with insinuation, which I ignored. I wondered how reliable the locals would be in either confirming or denying his alibi. Mery might now be one of the largest local landowners, but if rumor was right, he wasn't very popular with the neighboring populace.

"Who knew that Branok was still alive? Obviously you, Bevil, and Tristram, as well as Dr. Wolcott. But who else?"

His mouth flattened as he slowed the horses to turn a sharp corner. The homes and shops lining the road sat dark and quiet, as if slumbering like their owners.

"Did Amelia?"

"Aye. But as for the rest, the other wives and such." He shrugged. "I don't know."

"What about Anne?"

He turned to me sharply even as he was steering the horses into another turn. "You'll have to ask her and Tom that, but I don't think so."

Another few feet, and he veered into the doctor's drive, careful not to overset our cargo.

"Why are we here, Meryasek?" I asked as the horse's harnesses jingled as we came to a stop. "In Cornwall," I specified, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew what I meant. "Why were we lured here?"

For a moment, he sat staring straight ahead and I thought he might actually be considering answering me. But then a light flared in one of the physician's windows, and Mery reached down to set the brake before clambering out of the carriage to approach the rear door to the cottage. I peered back at Bree, curious what she had made of our exchange.

"He kens," she whispered.

"Of course he does. Yet even in death, he allows his grandfather to compel his silence."

"Unless he has a reason to remain silent, too."

I watched Mery as he spoke to the servant who had answered Dr. Wolcott's door, recognizing I would do well not to underestimate him. Mery might be a profligate and a rogue, but he clearly possessed intelligence, as well as a healthy sense of self-preservation. He would know when speaking up would be in his best interest and when it wouldn't. As such, I had to question the motives behind his reticence.

"Keep an eye on Mery and Mrs. Wolcott," I instructed Bree. "The cousins are close. But my question is, how close?"

Bree's gaze met mine, sparkling with disapproval.

"It may be entirely innocent," I cautioned. "But I need to know."

A few moments later, Dr. Wolcott came bustling out the door, still donning his greatcoat, and followed Mery toward the wagon. He stumbled to a halt at the sight of me perched on the seat. I could see the words forming on his lips—the refusal to allow me to participate—and I prepared my rebuttal. But then his shoulders slumped, and he simply shook his head in resignation.

While the men wrangled the body from the back of the cart, I climbed down, collecting one of the lanterns from the side of the wagon, and urged Bree to follow me. I spied the Wolcott's housekeeper standing in the doorway, observing proceedings, and crossed toward her to ask that my maid be allowed to wait inside.

"Of course, ma'am," she replied. "I'll put the kettle on, shall I?"

I thanked her before turning to follow the men toward the icehouse. There was no need to wonder what the housekeeper's reaction was to this. She made a choking-gasping sound so loud that I feared she'd swallowed her tongue. I trusted Bree to lend her aid should it be needed.

Quickening my steps, I hastened past the men to swing the wooden door wide to allow them to enter. Trailing them inside, I noted the table positioned near the center of the room, but closer to the door, so as to preserve its distance from the shelves at the back where food was stored. It being late autumn, there was no ice left, but come late December into January, I suspected the building would be well stocked. However, that didn't mean the room wasn't cold. Partially concealed underground as it was, and with the near-freezing temperatures outside, the shed was sufficiently chilled for our purposes.

The body having been laid on the table, I set the lantern down near the head and informed Mery he could go.

A mulish expression crossed his features. "What if I wanted to stay?"

"Trust me," I replied, removing my hat and fur-lined gloves and reaching for one of the aprons hung on a hook next to the door. "You don't want to."

Dr. Wolcott stood stiffly observing us, but upon seeing that I intended to begin with or without him, he reached for the other apron. Carefully, I peeled back the sheet, noting any stains and their corresponding position, and allowed the shroud to trail down over the edges of the table. When Branok's face was revealed, Mery abruptly turned away and strode from the shed, allowing the door to swing shut behind him with a thud. I paid but a fleeting thought to his reaction, wondering if it was one of guilt, shock, or grief, before narrowing my focus to the body before me.