Chapter Three

Chapter Three

If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole, Emily thought, as Lady Francesca pointed an accusing finger her way.

The crowd had fallen silent, all staring as one with a mixture of horror and fascination, at Emily, who stood slightly apart from their midst. She had never felt more alone in her life, and her eyes sought out her family but she could not spot them amongst the swarm of people.

This can"t possibly get any worse, Emily thought, as anxiety bubbled in her stomach.

But, of course, it could.

"I overheard Miss Mifford arguing with Lady Hardthistle mere minutes ago," Lady Francesca continued, her high voice carrying on the night air, "She threatened her, she said that soon, Lady Hardthistle would suffer the consequences of her unkindness. She meant to murder her!"

As the crowd fell into frenzied whispers, Emily found that she could not entirely blame Lady Francesca for her supposition. Emily had, indeed, said those very words to the baroness, but the consequences that Emily had imagined Lady Hardthistle suffering had been spiritual rather than physical. Well, perhaps, not only spiritual; she had also hoped that the odious woman might ingest a bad egg and spend a week confined to the water-closet, but now really wasn"t the time to share that.

The crowd continued to whisper and murmur to each other, but this reaction evidently was not enough for Lady Francesca, who glanced around with visible annoyance.

"She"s a murderer!" the young woman cried again, this time much louder and with a definite note of hysteria to her tone.

"That"s enough."

Lord Chambers" voice cracked like a whip, silencing the crowd completely. The marquess glowered at Lady Francesca, an act which left Emily with a rather giddy feeling in her stomach.

He radiated strength and power, but now was really not the time to feel smitten, Emily chastised herself. A woman lay dead on the ground.

"You cannot silence me," Lady Francesca retorted, evidently not as taken by the marquess" display of masculine authority as Emily was, "She"s a murderer. Miss Mifford is a murderer!"

"He said," another voice boomed, "That"s enough. Someone take Lady Francesca inside; she"s hysterical. In fact, everyone inside--NOW."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief as Northcott came striding forward, tailed by Mary. The duke stood head and shoulders above everyone else--apart from Lord Chambers--and he glared down imperiously at the crowd. He exuded ducal authority and power, and Emily noted that Mary"s cheeks were rather pink as she watched her husband take command of the situation.

Under Northcott"s orders, the crowd at last began to disperse, though several people remained; Jane and Ivo, who stood beside a jibbering Mrs Mifford and a yawning Eudora, the marquess, Ethel, and Lord and Lady Albermay.

The latter made an odd coupling; the elderly Lord Albermay"s eyes were half-closed, as though he was indulging in a brief nap, while his wife--all flaming hair and buxom curves--near vibrated with excitement.

"How can anyone think Miss Mifford a murderer?" Lady Albermay commented, in her strange accent, "Why, look at those arms! She"s so scrawny. There"s no way she could strangle a woman to death with those chicken arms."

Emily was not entirely certain if she was being defended or insulted, but she decided to settle on the former and offered Lady Albermay a grateful smile.

"We shall have to summon the runners," Lord Chambers stated, ignoring Lady Albermay"s unhelpful contribution, to which Northcott nodded in agreement.

"I"ll send one of the footmen," Lady Albermay offered, keen to be involved, "And perhaps another one to come take my husband inside; he"s quite overcome with the excitement of it all."

On cue, Lord Albermay gave a loud snore, which confirmed that he was indeed indulging in an upright nap--quite the feat, Emily thought with admiration. Lady Albermay disappeared into the house to fetch the footmen, and once she was out of earshot, Mary stepped forward.

"Now, Ethel," Mary said, all business, "You must tell us what happened and how you came to find Lady Hardthistle."

"I think that is a question we might leave to the runners," Lord Chambers interjected, with a confused glance at the duchess. It was not usual for a lady, let alone one of such high rank, to indulge in such a menial task as interrogating a servant--especially over something as gruesome as a murder.

Mary, who was something of a veteran of murder investigations--having solved one before, in Plumpton--scowled at the marquess, but her husband intervened.

"He"s right, dear," Northcott soothed, "There is no need to involve yourself this time; the runners are far more capable of solving this mystery than Mr Marrowbone."

Mr Marrowbone was Plumpton"s reluctant constable; a man so workshy and lazy that he might be replaced by a bucket and no one would notice the difference. Emily highly doubted that the famed Bow Street Runners shared the same work ethic as he, given their reputation for capturing all sorts of villains. The only thing that Mr Marrowbone was capable of catching was a cold.

Mary pouted a little at this news, and Jane made to object, but even Lord Crabb could not be tempted to adventure.

"Northcott is correct," Ivo said, with a stern glance at his wife, "Best leave this to the professionals. London is not Plumpton; it"s far more dangerous. Who knows what type of mischief befell Lady Hardthistle. I think it"s best if I bring you all home, and leave Northcott and Lord Chambers to attend to matters here."

Mary and Jane gave a few grumbles, but when Mrs Mifford declared that she too would like to remain--so that she could imbibe some medicinal wine for her nerves--they quickly changed their tune. Lady Albermay"s ball was already a disaster, the poor countess did not need to add a tipsy Mrs Mifford to her list of woes.

"There"s no need for you to remain either, Northcott; I shall look after things here," Lord Chambers said, once the plan for the family to return home had been agreed upon, "Lady Hardthistle was my aunt, so it behoves me to stay. You attend to your family; I dare say that Miss Mifford is a trifle overwrought after having suffered such a public slandering. I have a fair idea of who might have committed this barbaric act, so have no fear, her name will be cleared by the morning."

Something stirred in Emily"s mind at his words; the marquess might have an idea of who had killed Lady Hardthistle, but so too did she--Sir Cadogan. Only last night she had overheard him threatening to strangle the baroness, and now tonight she lay dead on the ground. He had to be the perpetrator, for how likely was it that anyone else had been struck by an urge to murder Lady Hardthistle in the intervening hours?

"I think--" Emily began, but she was cut off by Mary.

"Yes, you do look a tad wan, dear," her elder sister commented with concern.

"Pale as a ghost," Jane added, offering her a sympathetic glance.

"Are we going to stand here all night, or is someone willing to bring me home? Won"t someone think of my nerves?"

"Your nerves are ever forefront in our minds, Mama," Eudora answered, with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, thanks to the thick spectacles she wore--but did not need--this act was magnified tenfold, and spotted by Mrs Mifford.

A small squabble broke out, during which the Mifford matriarch accused her four daughters of having no care for her feelings. Not wishing for their mother to disgrace them in front of Lord Chambers--which Emily thought rather silly, for she had already been accused of murder in front of him, which was far more disgraceful--Mary hastened the family"s departure.

"Goodbye, Lord Chambers," the duchess called gaily, as though they were at a village fete and not the scene of a murder. She herded the family toward the house, with the enthusiasm of a boisterous collie. Such was her haste to hide Mrs Mifford away from the marquess that Emily half expected her to start nipping at their heels.

Inside the house, which had emptied of revellers--murder being next to running out of wine on the list of things which will instantaneously end a party--Mary and Northcott sought out Lady Albermay, to tell her that they would be leaving.

"Given his connection to the deceased, Lord Chambers has taken charge of matters. I think it"s best if you wait inside, while he deals with the runners," Northcott counselled the countess, who looked disappointed that the fun was coming to an end.

"Of course I"ll stay inside, your Grace," Lady Albermay answered, in a tone which suggested she was merely humouring the duke and intended to do the opposite, "Thank you so much for all your help. Goodnight--I hope you"re all able to get some sleep after all this excitement."

Emily, who did not feel that being accused of murder was all that exciting, attempted to speak up again about Sir Cadogan, but was cut off by Mary.

"Honestly, Emily," the duchess sighed, "Now is not the time for idle chatter. It"s impossible for anyone to get a word in edgeways when you"re around."

Aggrieved by the injustice of that statement, Emily followed Northcott and Mary to the carriage in a cloud of sulky silence. Such was her annoyance, that she did not even bid her mother and the others goodbye, as they clambered into their own vehicle which would bring them to Crabb House.

On the short journey home, Mary and Northcott murmured quietly to each other, occasionally casting concerned glances Emily"s way. From their worried expressions, it was obvious that they were not completely convinced by Lord Chambers" assertion that he would clear Emily"s name.

Nevertheless, when they at last arrived home, Mary offered Emily a bracing smile.

"There"s no need to worry about anything, Emily, everything will be just fine," Mary assured her, as she shrugged off her shawl and handed it to the waiting footman.

Emily, whose attention had been focused more on feeling vexed with Mary than worrying about Lady Francesca"s outlandish claim, instantly began to fret at her words. When someone sought to assure a person that everything was fine, in that strange high-pitched way, it usually was not.

"Your sister is correct," Northcott added, in a deep voice, "And, you have the protection of the ducal seat behind you; I would never allow any harm to come to you, or your reputation."

Northcott looked formidable as he spoke, and exuded so much confidence and power, that despite her nerves, Emily almost believed him. Mary also appeared to be very taken with her husband"s forceful declaration, for she stood watching him with her mouth slightly open for a moment, before she snapped it shut with a blush.

"Er," Mary said, as she absently twisted a strand of her hair, "Yes. Northcott is right. Everything will be fine; you"ll see in the morning. Goodnight, Emily. Don"t stay up too late. Northcott--I shall need a hand taking off my slippers."

"Don"t you have a maid for that?" Northcott queried, raising an amused eyebrow.

"I"d rather you help me," Mary answered pointedly, and for some reason which Emily could not quite fathom, the duke blushed like a schoolgirl.

"Of course," the duke cleared his throat, "Er. Goodnight, Emily."

With that, the pair disappeared up the staircase, leaving Emily to make her own solitary journey to her bedchamber, where she was certain sleep would evade her.

Inside the dressing room which adjoined the bedchamber, Emily disrobed and unpinned her hair. She washed her face in the bowl of water upon the armoire, then threw on her nightrail--a soft, wool one she had brought with her from Plumpton--and crawled into bed.

Despite her belief that sleep would be hard to come by, the instant that Emily rested her head on the goose-feather pillow she began to feel drowsy. A chamber maid had left a warming pan at the bottom of the bed, and a low fire burned in the grate, and Emily could not help but be lulled to sleep by such comforts.

I"ll tell Northcott tomorrow about Sir Cadogan, she decided, as her heavy eyelids drooped to a close. The old squire had to be the person who killed Lady Hardthistle; who else would want the baroness dead?

The next morning, Emily awoke far later than usual, and after washing and dressing, she hurried downstairs to the dining room.

There, she found Northcott and Mary already seated at the table, both sipping tea and reading through the morning"s papers.

"Is there anything about Lady Hardthistle?" Emily asked, as she slipped into a vacant chair.

A footman immediately stepped forward and filled her cup with steaming hot-chocolate, before discreetly withdrawing again. The servants in Northcott House were far more attentive than Nora, the maid of all work in Primrose Cottage, who could be counted upon to maliciously burn the sausages if she felt that she had been at all slighted. As Mrs Mifford had the unfortunate habit of slighting anyone who crossed her path, Emily and the rest of the family had become accustomed to gnawing on charred pieces of meat and weak tea most mornings, under the dark cloud of Nora"s ire.

"No," Northcott called to her, from over the top of the paper, "They would have been gone to press by the time it happened. I expect that there shall be some mention of it tomorrow."

"Will my name also be mentioned?" Emily ventured, nervously nibbling on her lip, "Or do you think that Lord Chambers has already apprehended the villain? Did he send word at all?"

"No, you will not be mentioned," Northcott lowered the paper and answered her first question with an emphatic shake of his head, "And as for Lord Chambers, he has not yet sent word. I expect that when he has some news, he will update us."

"Good," Emily tried to sound cheerful, for she did not want to let her sister and Northcott know just how worried she was. What if there was no way of proving that Sir Cadogan was guilty? Would she forever be viewed with suspicion by the rest of the ton?

Emily took a bite of her toast, but it tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She placed it back on the plate, and took another sip of hot-chocolate, savouring the warm comfort it offered.

She remained silent for the rest of breakfast, as Mary and the duke shared tit-bits from the papers they read. Emily was glad of their gentle comments on the latest news scandal--an escaped lynx from The Royal Menagerie, last spotted in Hyde Park--and ton gossip.

"Lord Charmer cut a dashing figure in the Green Park, yesterday morning," Mary read aloud, "Where no doubt he has taken up riding to avoid the longing stares of the ladies on the Row, who wish to capture his heart. Will the ever elusive--and ever stylish--marquess finally take a bride this season? This author has it on good authority that Lord C. has several ladies in mind to take as a bride."

Emily bristled a little, as she realised that the thinly disguised lord to whom the author was referring was Lord Chambers. No wonder he had such an inflated sense of his own self-importance, when the papers wrote guff like this about him, she thought irritably.

"I did not take Lord Chambers for a polygamist," Emily commented, picking up her toast to take a sharp bite from its corner.

"They do make it sound like he is about to set up a harem," Northcott chortled, though he quickly rearranged his amused expression into something more sombre at Mary"s warning glare.

"I suppose it does not matter who Lord Chambers chooses to marry, Emily," the duchess commented, with faux-innocence, "As you have previously declared a potted plant to be a more suitable candidate for a husband than he."

Emily swallowed the piece of toast she was munching, surprised that it did not stick in her craw and choke her. There was no one more infuriating in the world than a sister who thought herself right when she was, in fact, very wrong.

"I do not care who Lord Chambers decides to marry," Emily answered, with slightly more passion than someone who had just professed not to care might possess. "I simply commented that the author made it sound as though he was about to marry all seven ladies on his purported list of brides."

"Of course," Mary demurred, but her tone was less than convincing.

Emily was about to open her mouth and point out that she had suffered enough already, without having to endure her sister"s condescension, when Northcott--now an expert in judging sisterly-relations--interrupted.

"The price of wheat is set to increase again," he observed, shaking his paper with more vigour than necessary, "I expect we shall discuss that in The House later, along with Sidcott"s proposal to examine the fiduciary duties of the Crown purse."

As Northcott had, perhaps, guessed, both Emily and Mary"s eyes glazed over at the mention of the dull activities of The House of Lords. Mary stifled a yawn, before taking a large sip of coffee, while Emily glanced at the half-finished toast on her plate and wondered how she might escape.

"Well, I"d best get ready for my callers," Mary said, with a bright smile to her husband, "Come, Emily. I expect Sylvie wishes to poke and prod at us before she allows us be viewed by anyone."

Emily duly followed her sister upstairs to Mary"s large dressing room, where the French maid dressed their hair and added a dash of élégance to their appearance.

"Ah, your Grace," Sylvie sighed happily, when she was finished, "You are a vision of perfection."

Mary preened with pleasure, and the lady"s maid turned her eye to Emily, who awaited similar comment.

"Miss Mifford," Sylvie"s pretty mouth twisted into a pout, "You are..."

Emily waited a moment for the maid to add an adjective, but when it became apparent that none was forthcoming, she decided she would have to settle for merely having her existence confirmed.

"I am," Emily nodded, standing from her chair, "And, I am going downstairs to read my book."

"I"ll join you shortly," Mary called after her, "I just need a few minutes to try get my feet into my new slippers. I swear, they have shrunk since I bought them."

Emily made no comment, instead she slipped from the room and downstairs to the front drawing room--an elegant chamber, with ceiling height sash-windows which gazed out over St James" Square. Once there, she settled herself in the plush Queen Ann by the fireplace and extracted the Minerva Press novel that she had secreted away under the cushions. She passed a pleasant half-hour reading, until Mary joined her.

"I"m glad no one called while I was otherwise occupied," Mary chirped, as she swept into the room, "Honestly, I did not expect that being a duchess would involve receiving so many callers. I received none, when I was simply Miss Mifford."

Before becoming a duchess, Mary had been the daughter of a country vicar, so it was no surprise to Emily that her callers had increased ten-fold now that she was a duchess. Every morning, between the hours of eleven and three, Mary was besieged by callers keen to affirm their acquaintance with her.

Mary settled herself in the chair nearest to the window, picked up her needlework, and awaited the first of her callers, while Emily settled herself back into the chair and continued to read.

The Gothic-tale in her hands was so absorbing, that Emily did not quite register the passage of time until the clock on the mantelpiece struck noon.

"Is it that time already?" Emily glanced over at her sister in surprise.

Mary, she now saw, wore a worried expression on her pretty face, and her blue eyes were focused on the square outside and not her embroidery hoop.

By this time, the duchess would usually have received at least three sets of visitors, and Emily could not help but wonder if the murder had anything to do with her sudden drop in popularity.

"I expect that people are calling on Lady Albermay first," Mary assured her, "Given that she was last night"s hostess. Enjoy your book while you can, we shall be busy pouring tea in no time."

Emily nodded and returned her attention to her book, but the words on the page swam before her eyes. The lack of callers, and the lack of news from Lord Chambers could mean only one thing--that Lord Chambers" suspect had been proved innocent and the ton believed Emily had murdered Lady Hardthistle.

Her despairing belief was further confirmed as the clock struck one, and then two, with no sign of any visitors to Northcott House.

"It must be the inclement weather that"s keeping people away," Mary declared at half-past two, as she stood from her chair. Unfortunately, as soon as she finished speaking, her figure was illuminated by a sudden burst of sunshine through the window, and from the hallway a passing maid loudly proclaimed the beauty of the day.

"I"m not without some brains, Mary," Emily chided, as she too stood from her seat, "There must be some connection to your lack of callers and my being accused of murder."

"Nonsense," Mary brushed her concern aside, but--as she always did when she was worried or anxious--she lifted her hand to neck to fiddle with her necklace.

"Don"t molly-coddle me," Emily began, but the rest of her sentence was cut-off by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Mary bid, and the door swung open to reveal a footman holding a silver tray with a calling card upon it.

"Lady Albermay is wondering if you are at home, your Grace?"

"Oh!" Mary"s expression brightened, "Yes. Of course I am. Send her in, and tell the maids to bring in a tray of tea and French fancies."

The footman disappeared and Mary smoothed down the skirts of her dress nervously, as they awaited the appearance of the countess.

Lady Albermay burst into the room, moments later, in a flurry of perfume fumes and loud exclamations. In her strange accent, she loudly complimented Mary"s dress and the furniture, before declaring herself famished and seating herself on the sofa without being invited.

By Emily"s count, the countess had broken at least three rules of etiquette in less than five seconds, but her disregard for decorum only made her more likable.

Mary and Emily both perched themselves on the opposite sofa to the countess, and waited for the maid--who had arrived just after the countess--to pour the tea. Once everyone had a cup, and the maid had retreated to a respectable distance, Lady Albermay spoke.

"I came to offer you my assurance, Miss Mifford, that you have my full support," Lady Albermay said sincerely, as she set her cup down on the table before her.

"Thank you," Emily was touched by the earnestness of her statement, even if she was a tad confused, "Er; your full support in what matter, might I ask?"

There was a moment of silence, as Lady Albermay shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Why," she drawled, blushing a little, "With the murder accusation. Lord Chambers" suspect turned out to be something of a dead-duck, and as there was no one else under suspicion, I"m afraid that the ton have reverted to thinking you the culprit."

Emily gulped; her earlier fears had not been unfounded; the conspicuous lack of callers could be attributed to the ton believing her a murderess.

"It"s a ridiculous notion, of course," the countess stressed, with a kind-eyed smile to Emily, "To think that an itty-bitty thing like you could have choked a woman to death. Lord Chambers was of the belief that Mr Fitzgibbons was the guilty party, given that he had earlier been heard professing a wish to strangle Lady Hardthistle over some issue about fixed horse races. But, as his good friend Mr Bunting was able to vouch for his whereabouts, I"m afraid that idea was quashed fairly quickly."

For a moment Emily was astonished to learn that, in such a short space of time, not one but two people had verbalised their wish to kill Lady Hardthistle. Then, when she thought on it a bit longer, she decided it really wasn"t that astonishing at all. The baroness had been a harridan of the highest order--it really was a wonder that the list of suspects in her murder was so few.

Though, the only person who knew that there was a second person on the list was Emily.

Emily opened her mouth to share her suspicion that Sir Cadogan might be the murderer, when Mary spoke, interrupting her.

"You are kind, my lady," Mary said, her eyes misty with emotion--a frequent occurrence, since she had announced she was expecting, "To offer your backing to poor Emily. I fear that not everyone will be as good as you. I must speak with Northcott, and decide what we must do next."

"His Grace is well connected," Lady Albermay answered, cheerfully, "No one would dare give Miss Mifford the cut, if they knew that they risked the censure of the duke and his esteemed associates."

"You"re correct, my lady," Mary agreed, nodding her head thoughtfully, "I shall task Northcott with rallying support, at once."

"If I can be of any assistance, do let me know," the countess replied with a wide smile, "I"ll leave you both to your planning, but if you require anything--anything at all--my door is always open."

With that, Lady Albermay rose to a stand and swept from the room, leaving only her floral scent behind her.

"What an unexpected new friend," Mary commented, as the door sounded shut, "It was so good of her to call, so that we know what we are faced with. Never fear, Emily; Northcott will fix matters with the ton."

"Perhaps if we were to find out who killed Lady Hardthistle ourselves, then Northcott would not need to fix anything," Emily answered, though Mary was not listening.

As usual, once she had decided on a plan, Mary was deaf to all else but her own thoughts. As though Emily had not spoken, the duchess stood from the sofa, her brow drawn into a frown of concentration and her mind patently elsewhere.

"Yes, finish the cakes Emily, while I sort out matters," she said absently, before making her way to the door.

"No, that wasn"t what I said," Emily called after her, but it was too late--she was already gone.

"Nobody ever listens to me," Emily grumbled, aware of the irony of her statement as she was now alone and speaking to herself.

Mary and Northcott, having solved their own murder mystery, appeared to have no wish to assist Emily with solving hers. Smoothing over matters so that Emily"s season would continue unimpeded by murder accusations was not Emily"s idea of a satisfactory conclusion to Lady Hardthistle"s death. No, she would have to find out just who it was who had strangled the unlikeable baroness. There must be someone else with an interest in solving the mystery...

Lord Chambers!

The marquess had taken command of last night"s ghastly situation, and had even suggested his own suspect. If there was anyone in the world who cared as much about solving the murder, it was he.

True, he was so big-headed that he would no doubt claim that he had discovered the perpetrator alone, but that did not matter to Emily, as long as the true murderer was found.

She just needed a way to get in touch with the marquess; a note perhaps? Or would it be considered scandalous for a young, unwed lady to write to a man she was barely acquainted with?

As Emily pondered how she might circumvent society"s complex rules and make contact with the marquess, the door burst open and Mary reappeared.

"I have the answer," she cried, her eyes alight with triumph, "Lord Chambers!"

"What about him?" Emily queried, while secretly marvelling at the fact that the marquess appeared to be the answer to everyone"s problems.

"I shall send Northcott to ask the marquess to show his support for you publicly, tonight at Lady Stanton"s ball," Mary explained, with an air of impatience at Emily"s lack of telepathy. "As well as being one of the ton"s most celebrated bachelors, he is also Lady Hardthistle"s nephew--albeit through marriage. His backing of you shall be sure to silence wagging tongues."

Mary finished speaking and waited expectantly for some sort of objection from Emily, but none was forthcoming.

"Capital idea," Emily offered, causing Mary to frown suspiciously. Her ideas were not usually so well received by her younger sisters.

"I"m glad you think so," Mary said cautiously, and once she was certain that it wasn"t a trap, and that Emily was agreeable to her plan, she smiled.

"I don"t think you could have come up with a better plan," Emily assured her, for it was the truth. Thanks to Mary"s intervention, she would soon be able to converse with Lord Chambers, and the investigation could begin in earnest.