Chapter 5

five

“ W hy, he shoved her down a staircase, of course.” Breezy’s indifferent tone suggested she considered this general knowledge and not at all a shocking allegation that Alexander Bostwick had deliberately harmed his wife.

But it was shocking, of course, and left the Hart sisters quite aghast.

They were in their suite getting dressed for dinner when Lucy asked their aunt how Alex’s wife had died. Not out of morbid curiosity, but rather so she might offer the appropriate condolences.

Like the evening before, Poppy had eaten earlier and was in bed while Asher was dressing in his own room, so it was just the four of them putting the finishing touches on their ensembles before going downstairs to the dining room.

“What do you mean he shoved her down a staircase?” Coco asked slowly and carefully, as if she’d certainly misheard, especially given the dispassionate way their aunt had uttered the accusation. As if all she’d said was, “He wore a brown suit.”

Breezy squinted at Coco. “Have you no understanding of gravity, my dear? They were standing at the top of the stairs, he pushed and down she tumbled. Gravity.”

“That cannot be true, Aunt Breezy,” Trudy chided. It wasn’t her place to call her aunt a liar, but this was a heinous accusation, and she felt quite confident that the man they’d just spent an afternoon with at the cottage site was not capable of doing anything so diabolical.

“Of course it’s true. Everyone knows it’s true,” Breezy responded, buffing her nails with a lemon wedge.

“But… why would he push her down a staircase?” Lucy pressed.

“For the money, naturally,” Breezy answered. “Isabella was a Carnegie, you know. Not one of Andrew’s children, of course, but a cousin I think. Or a second cousin. Regardless, the girl’s father is wealthy enough in his own right and he set her up with a sizeable fortune which became the sole property of Alexander Bostwick the moment the poor girl died.”

The Hart sisters exchanged troubled glances, and Lucy sank down onto a velvet ottoman.

“That doesn’t make sense. The Bostwicks were already rich,” Lucy added. “Why would they need Carnegie money, too?”

“You can never be too rich,” Coco replied, nodding sagely, and Trudy wondered if this would be the end of her sister’s infatuation with Alexander Bostwick, or if his increased wealth would only serve to make him more attractive—the possible murder of his bride notwithstanding.

“The Bostwicks are rich,” Breezy said, turning in her chair, obviously thrilled to have their full attention. “But there’s been talk of a business investment gone horribly awry. I’ve heard from a trusted confidante who heard from a very reliable acquaintance that Alexander made a regrettable investment in a northern Michigan copper mine. The thing went bust almost immediately, and cost Bostwick & Sons thousands upon thousands of dollars. I suspect the error might have ruined them had he not married Isabella Carnegie.”

“I cannot imagine he’d go to such extreme measures just to rectify a business mistake,” Trudy said. She also happened to know there were far easier and more reliable ways to murder someone, but this hardly seemed the time to mention it.

“Maybe if it had just been the fall,” Breezy responded, annoyed by Trudy’s doubt. “But, you see, Isabella was alive when she landed at the bottom of those steps. A little bump on the head, is all. She was fine. It wasn’t until later that day, when she and Alexander were alone in her room that she mysteriously died. So, there you have it. It’s obvious!”

“What is obvious about that?” Trudy asked.

“It’s obvious,” Breezy retorted, “that when the fall didn’t kill her the way he’d planned, he finished her off some other way once they were alone.”

“Oh, good Lord, Aunt Breezy!” Trudy exclaimed, her patience at an end. “That is ludicrous, not to mention malicious. Constance Bostwick is your friend. You have known Alexander his entire life. You can’t possibly believe he murdered his wife for money. Shame on you for saying so.”

It wasn’t that Trudy felt any kind of kinship toward Alexander. She had no reason to defend him in particular, but her aunt was being cruel and unjust, and that she could not tolerate—no matter who it was directed toward, but Breezy reacted as if she’d been slapped, drawing up and lurching back against her chair.

“No, shame on you, Gertrude Hart!” She huffed and puffed and sputtered. “How dare you accuse me of spreading falsities! Lucy asked how his wife died and I’m telling you what I know. Alexander was the only one there when she fell, and he was the only one in the room when she unexpectedly died. How else would you explain it, if you’re so smart?”

Trudy took a breath, trying to regain some semblance of calm as her sisters looked on, wide-eyed with uneasy fascination. No one ever spoke to Breezy this way, and perhaps Trudy should not be so harsh, but the woman needed scolding.

“I would explain it,” Trudy said slowly, “by pointing out that head injuries are notoriously unpredictable, and that a fall down the stairs could have easily produced a brain injury which caused her skull to fill with blood until the pressure grew so great she finally succumbed.”

“Ugh! That is the grisliest thing I have ever heard,” Breezy exclaimed, along with more huffing and puffing and sputtering. “I don’t know how you can consider yourself a proper young lady when you say such revolting things. A head full of blood, indeed!”

Trudy knew that if a bee was buzzing around her, the best course of action was to simply walk away. To engage with the bee was to invite a sting but she could not let this go.

“So, you’re suggesting that it’s perfectly acceptable for you to haphazardly accuse someone of murder based on the flimsiest of evidence but not for me, as a trained physician, to provide a logical, medical explanation for the cause of death?”

Tiny dots of perspiration had beaded on Breezy’s forehead, and her always florid cheeks were nearing a burgundy hue. She looked near to bursting, and Trudy realized she may have actually gone too far.

Dear Mother and Father,

Under my watch, Poppy got lost, Asher learned to cuss, Coco’s reputation is sure to be ruined… and I may be responsible for Aunt Breezy’s most recent bout of apoplexy. My sincere apologies.

“Even if what you say about the delay in her demise is true,” Breezy responded imperiously once she’d regained some of her own composure, “Alexander is still the one who pushed her down the stairs.”

“According to whom?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“According to whom? You said he was the only one with her when she fell so there must not have been any witnesses to the incident. Has he said he pushed her?”

Apparently, Trudy was not quite finished.

“Of course not,” Breezy retorted. “He said she fell, but someone in that household distinctly heard Isabella say it was all Alexander’s fault.”

“She said that?” Lucy exclaimed softly.

“Yes.” Breezy’s chins lifted in vindication.

“Who from the household?” Trudy asked, while silently acknowledging it was an unexpected—and potentially damning—twist.

“Someone,” Breezy answered defiantly. “The Bostwicks don’t know who. Obviously, it’s one of the servants but no one would come forward with details when the police questioned them.”

Breezy smoothed her skirts and glowered at them all, as if waiting for the next rebuke, but Trudy had none left. She still didn’t believe Alex had anything to do with Isabella Carnegie’s death. Not deliberately, anyway… but accidents happened all the time and perhaps he’d pushed her without meaning to. And if he did, how awful for them both.

“Well?” Breezy prompted a moment later. “I’m ready for your apology, Gertrude.”

At Trudy’s hesitation, Lucy rose from the ottoman and put an arm around her sister’s shoulders, squeezing. Rather hard, in fact, indicating in a gentle, sisterly fashion that Trudy must mend this fence before their aunt sent them packing back to Springfield. Even though, in that moment, Trudy would willingly have gone.

“Please understand, Aunt Breezy,” Lucy said smoothly. “Our dear Trudy is passionate about injustice, and she’d hate to see poor Mr. Bostwick be blamed for something so nefarious when we don’t have firsthand knowledge of the event. I’m sure she didn’t mean to offend you. I think we’re all just rather shocked by the they entire situation.”

“Is that so, Gertrude?”

Lucy squeezed her shoulders again, as if to make an apology pop out of her mouth from the pressure.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Breezy,” Trudy murmured. “I only disagreed with you because I believe it’s important to give people the benefit of the doubt and not rely on hearsay.”

Breezy sniffed. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? Perhaps you should give me the benefit of the doubt before casting aspersions toward my good character and accusing me of lying.”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry,” Trudy muttered again although they all knew she was not, in fact, sorry.

“This is all just silly,” Coco said, abruptly. She pranced across the room and plucked a fresh lemon wedge from the bowl in front of their aunt. “Of course he didn’t do it. Alexander Bostwick is clever and funny and far too handsome to be a murderer. In fact, I may as well tell you now, I love him. Now that he’s without a wife, I intend to marry him.”

The tension in the room, which had mere seconds before begun to ease, doubled at Coco’s flippant declaration.

“I assume you are joking and it’s not funny,” Breezy responded heatedly. “There are dozens of fine young men here, so I expect you to set your cap for one of them and stay far away from the likes of Alexander Bostwick.”

Coco gave a saucy shake of her blonde head. “I don’t want to set my cap for someone else, Aunt Breezy. I don’t need to. Mother said she knew from the very first moment she saw Father that he was meant to be her husband and that’s what happened to me yesterday. The first moment I met Alexander Bostwick, I just knew. He’s going to be my husband.”

She brought the lemon wedge to her mouth and bit into the flesh, but it was Breezy’s expression that puckered, and Trudy wondered how on God’s green earth they would survive the summer together intact.

“And I’m telling you to choose someone else,” Breezy snapped. “The Bostwick family is riddled with scandals and their business is teetering on the brink of financial disaster. Your mother didn’t insist I bring you girls all the way to Trillium Bay to find you husbands just so you could end up with the likes of him.”

Breezy’s eyes went wide at her own words, and her lips smacked shut as she abruptly turned her back. The ensuing pause was long and heavy as Trudy, Lucy, and Coco exchanged bewildered glances.

“What… did you just say?” Lucy asked, and Trudy took a turn sinking down onto the velvet ottoman.

Breezy returned to her manicure. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice squeaked with innocence, and she refused to look their way.

“What did you just say about our mother?” Lucy asked again.

Another moment passed as Breezy buffed at her nails so aggressively they’d be shiny as mirrors by the time she was finished.

“Aunt Breezy?” Lucy said with more determination.

“Oh, very well!” She flounced back around to face them squarely. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing if you know. I was sworn to secrecy by your mother, but since Gertrude has already accused me of being a liar, I suppose it’s best to tell the truth.” She folded her hands in her lap as if she were about to sing a hymn. “Your mother asked me to bring you girls to the Imperial Hotel for the summer so you might each secure a proposal.”

“A proposal?” Trudy gasped. “Of marriage?”

“Naturally, a proposal of marriage,” Breezy said. “Any other kind of proposal would be inappropriate. Although I admit I don’t hold out much hope for you, Gertrude, what with your age and your height and your freakish fascination with grotesque illnesses.”

Two minutes ago, Trudy couldn’t fathom how anyone could commit murder. Now she understood.

“Mother asked you to bring us here? To find… husbands?” Lucy asked, as if she still could not believe her ears.

“Yes. I just said so.”

“But why here?” Lucy persisted. “And why now?”

“I should think that would be rather obvious. Your mother wants what’s best for you and she knows you’ll never find suitable husbands in that country hollow you live in, quaint though it may be. She wants you to have a better life than she’s had.”

“Our mother loves her life,” Trudy responded. “She’s not concerned with wealth and status.”

“Not for herself, perhaps, but she doesn’t want to deny you girls a chance to better yourselves.”

“We’re already bettering ourselves,” Trudy exclaimed, losing her patience. Again. “I have a medical degree and Lucy’s going to college in the autumn to study astronomy!”

But her point was lost on their aunt as Coco giggled and did a clumsy pirouette in the center of the room. “This is fantastic!” she exclaimed gleefully. “I’m going to write to Mother straight away and tell her I’ve already found myself the most perfect husband.”

“You will do no such thing,” Trudy argued. “There has obviously been some kind of misunderstanding. And besides, you are only seventeen. Too young for marriage.”

“But not too young for courtship,” Coco replied. “Alexander can woo me all summer, and then we’ll get married in the winter, when I turn eighteen.”

“I appreciate your vigor, girl, but I’m telling you, Alexander Bostwick is not a suitable match,” Breezy reminded her. “I will find you someone better. I will find each of you someone with wealth and status who will make a fine husband. Yes, even you, Gertrude,” Breezy added at her stunned expression. “I adore a challenge and if I can find someone willing to marry you , well, that would be a real feather in my cap. Now, let’s go down for dinner. I’m famished.”