CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It doesn’t occur to me until the next morning to wonder why Lord Edmund is here. He only left for London two days ago. Has he returned already?

Well, clearly he has. But why? Surely, he has business with parliament.

I ask Theresa the next morning. She shrugs and informs me, “His Lordship is often back and forth. He has a private aircraft he takes when he must visit London. He keeps his professional and private lives separate. I’ve never seen him conduct business here, and if he must entertain, he entertains at his house in London.”

“He has a house in London?”

“Aye. Most of the lords do. There are times when their work requires extended stays in our nation’s capital. Staying in a hotel room is not something men of that stature do for any length of time, so they purchase homes to use when in London.”

“I see.”

I wonder if his house in London could have any bearing on this mystery, but if it could, how doesn’t come to mind right away. The point is that it’s not out of the ordinary for him to be gone for short periods of time.

I change the subject. “Did you hear the storm last night?”

Theresa frowns. “Storm? What storm?”

My brow furrows. “The storm. Did you not hear it?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Mary, there was no storm last night.”

“There was,” I insist. I had to close Lord Edmund’s library window again and clean up the water the storm blew inside.”

Mary walks to the kitchen window and opens it. I follow her, and my stomach flips when I see the garden outside. It’s lush and vibrant. It’s also dry. There’s not a drop of water anywhere to be seen besides the fountains. Even more telling, the sky is a uniform clear blue without a single cloud.

My knees begin to tremble. I couldn’t have imagined that storm. If it were only the cries I heard, I would say I had mistaken them, but I saw the rain. I felt it. Hell, I spent twenty minutes cleaning it.

Had I imagined all of that? But… the conversation with Lord Edmund… surely that was real. “His Lordship is here, yes?” I ask Theresa.

“He’s here. He’s in the dining room eating breakfast with Lady Cordelia and Master Oliver. Are you all right, Mary?”

I am far from all right. Last night was far too vivid to have been a dream, yet I am staring at evidence that what I experienced wasn’t real. Is this castle affecting me the way it’s affecting Lady Cordelia?

I don’t say that, of course. I just shake my head and say, “I’m fine. I… suppose something else must have made that mess.”

Theresa nods warily. “Perhaps.”

A cry comes to our ears from the dining room. Theresa and I both rush to see what’s wrong and find Lady Cordelia standing with her hand to her mouth. Lord Edmund is also on his feet, frowning darkly at the figure of Inspector Hargreaves. He is the first person I hear speak. “Would you bloody mind not speaking of this in front of my nephew?”

“I don’t need to speak to him,” Hargreaves agrees, “but I do need to speak to you and Lady Cordelia.”

Theresa interjects. “If you please, sir. Lady Cordelia’s not well. She—”

“Who in hell gave you permission to speak about my wife?” Lord Edmund thunders. “Damn it all, has everyone gone mad? First the governess snoops around my library without permission, now everyone’s trying to claim my wife is insane—”

“Edmund, enough!” Cordelia cries.

We are all shocked to hear her take control. She looks at me and says firmly, "Mary, take Oliver to the school room to begin his studies. Theresa, please bring Inspector Hargreaves some refreshments. Inspector, Lord Edmund, and I will be happy to speak with you, but you must allow us a moment to compose ourselves. This is unwelcome and tragic news."

“What news?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Inspector Hargreaves looks at Oliver and clears his throat. My face flames, and I rush forward and usher him out of the room.

When we reach the school room, I heave a sigh and turn to Oliver. “I’m so sorry you had your breakfast interrupted.”

Oliver is pale and shaking. I can’t tell if it’s his condition or if it’s simple fright.

I learn the answer an instant later. It appears that Lord Edmund had good reason to scold Hargreaves for speaking in front of Oliver. He’s already revealed too much to the boy.

“They found Sarah,” Oliver tells me. “Her body washed up on shore near the cliffs this morning.” He shivers. “Inspector Hargreaves says she looked like she fell.”

My blood freezes. It can’t be a coincidence that she was found in the same place as Lady Evelyn.

There can be no doubt now. A murderer is hunting women in this house.

***

I stay with Oliver until he is calm. Then, I give him some assignments that should occupy him for the next hour or two and return to the parlor. I feel a touch of guilt at this, but I must know. This could be the best opportunity I'll have to find an answer to this mystery.

The parlor is in chaos when I arrive. Theresa stands in the corner, wringing her hands and casting anxious glances at Lady Cordelia. The lady herself is still as a statue, skin porcelain-white, eyes frozen as she listens to the two men argue.

“I will not be accused of murder in my own house!”

“Then perhaps you should step outside, my lord,” Hargreaves suggests thinly.

Lord Edmund turns the color of a ripe tomato. His hands clench into fists, and for a moment, I fear he may actually strike the inspector. Hargreaves notices this too. He glances at lord Edmund’s hands and smiles softly.

Lord Edmund takes a deep breath and unfolds his hands. In a barely controlled voice, he says, “Am I under arrest, Inspector Hargreaves?”

Hargreaves frowns. Reluctantly, he replies. “No, my lord.”

“Then I will kindly ask that any further conversation with me or my household take place by appointment and at my office in Clifton rather than the home I share with my wife and nephew.” Without waiting for a response, he walks to the door and holds it open. “If you please, Inspector.”

“I was dropped off,” Hargreaves informs him. “May I wait for the car to return?”

“You may wait on the porch.”

Hargreaves stares at him for a long moment. The earl meets his eyes without wavering. Finally, Hargreaves chuckles. “Very well, lord Edmund. Once more, you have won. I will wait outside.”

He tips his hat to Lady Cordelia and Theresa. When he meets my eyes, he says, “Perhaps Miss Mary would like to keep me company. I would like to follow up on Oliver’s condition, and since I’m not to be allowed to see him, she can bring me up to speed.”

I look at Lord Edmund. His lip is curled in disgust, but at the inspector, not at me. “Whatever makes you feel good about yourself, Jacob,” he sneers.

Without another word, he storms from the house. Theresa looks at me curiously. I shake my head slightly to let her know I have no idea what’s going on.

“Theresa?” Lady Cordelia says in a thready voice. “I am feeling unwell. Will you prepare me some tea and biscuits please?”

“At once, my lady,” Theresa says, hurrying to the kitchen.

Lady Cordelia follows, seeming to glide through the air like a…

Like a ghost.

I shiver and meet the inspector’s eyes. He gestures with his head for me to follow him outside.

I join him on the porch and shiver in the frosty late morning air. It is sunny outside, but it is not warm.

“Here,” he wraps his jacket around me. “I’m naturally warm-blooded. You mind if I smoke?”

I shake my head. His coat smells like cigarettes. It’s a comforting smell. I don’t smoke myself, and I refuse the cigarette he offers, but Sean smokes, or did until I implored him to quit recently. This reminds me of him.

“So how is he?” Hargreaves asks.

For a moment, I don’t know what he means. Then I remember. “Oh. Oliver’s…” I hesitate, unsure how much I should share, but that hesitation makes a lie impossible, so I say, “He’s not well, I’m afraid. He was laid up in bed with a cough all day yesterday. He’s better this morning, but it’s hard to tell if he’ll stay that way or not.”

Hargreaves curses. “They need to send him south to Lady Cordelia’s family. Somewhere, it's warmer and not windy all the time. If they won't do that, they should at least have a doctor look at him."

“Does he not have a doctor?”

“Not one he sees often enough. He needs full-time care. He can recover from this, but not if he’s not given proper care.”

“What is his affliction?” I ask.

“Weak lungs. Truly, that’s what it is. He’s not ill, and he’s not got asthma. He was born hard. His mother…”

Now it’s his turn to hesitate and my turn to catch him in a lie. “His mother was ill during her pregnancy, and it left Oliver underdeveloped.” He takes a deep drag on the cigarette. “He’d be fine, though, if they just let him receive proper care.”

He takes another drag, then turns to me. “How are you? Feeling ready to move on yet?”

I purse my lips. “I’m concerned, Inspector. I heard that you found Sarah’s body.”

“What’s left of it, yes.”

My stomach turns, and I pull his coat closer over my shoulders. “I don’t believe her death was an accident.”

“It wasn’t. I’m certain of it.” He meets my eyes. “But you take care, Mary. Lord Edmund is powerful. He is not the sort of man you take on lightly. I’ve been doing my job for twenty years and more, and I don’t mind sticking my neck out. But Oliver needs you. Keep your eyes and ears open, but keep your wits about you. He can’t lose anyone else. Do you understand?”

I shiver again, not from the cold this time. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” He looks out at the road. “There’s my car.”

He finishes his cigarette, tosses it on the floor and stamps it out. I hand him his coat and he tips his hat to me. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

I can’t conceive of any way I can have a good day after the morning’s events, so I only repeat his sentiment and watch him descend the porch steps to the waiting sedan.

He is right. I must think of Oliver first. But in thinking of Oliver, I must root out the murderer in his house. Oliver is a bright boy, intuitive and shrewd. One day, he will learn the truth. When he does, his life will be in danger. I must ensure that the danger is past before its black fingers wrap around Oliver.