Page 47 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"Which daughter?" he called cheerfully, as he ambled towards the bar.
"Emily," the constable answered, with a wink to Freddie, "Though perhaps he's open to negotiation."
"I am not," Freddie frowned at the very idea, before turning his gaze towards Mr Mifford, "A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Freddie, Lord Chambers."
"A lord, is it?" Mr Marrowbone squawked, but Freddie ignored him, gesturing for Mr Mifford to join him at the bar.
Angus, who already knew what his customers wanted before they did, set a pint of stout before Mr Mifford and another pint of ale before Freddie.
"You have come from London?" Mr Mifford asked, after he had taken a sip of his pint, "Tell me, how goes the investigation? My second eldest, Jane, wrote to tell me of Lady Hardthistle's unfortunate demise, and Emily's equally unfortunate association with it. She also said that you had taken on the yoke of investigator."
"I am nearly certain that I--I mean, that we--have discovered who the perpetrator is," Freddie answered, glad to have good news to impart. In a rush, he explained about Sir Cadogan, his declaration that he would strangle the baroness, and his association with Ethel, which provided perfect motivation.
"It sounds promising," Mr Mifford agreed, once Freddie had finished, "Though I do caution you; not everyone who declares a wish to murder someone is necessarily a murderer. My good wife professes a wish to kill me at least six times a day, yet I'm still here."
Mr Mifford took another, thoughtful, sip of his pint, before continuing with a rueful smile, "Though, I suppose, if my battered corpse is one day discovered, she'd be the most likely suspect."
Freddie, who was not accustomed to such dry humour, choked a little on his ale.
"My daughters have an unfortunate habit of becoming embroiled in murder mysteries," Mr Mifford continued, with a faint look of pride in his blue eyes, "And what I have learned, is that the true culprit is quite often the person you least suspect--the man who said nothing at all."
"That's very helpful," Freddie answered, politely, "Though, in this case, I rather think we have our man."
"I bow to your superior knowledge on the matter," Mr Mifford raised his glass in toast, "Now tell me, what did my daughter say when you asked for her hand?"
"I have not yet asked her," Freddie, despite his confidence, felt his ears burning, "I wished to procure a house in Plumpton first, to try sweeten the offer."
"I take it you have not spent much time in the company of Mrs Mifford?" the vicar queried, innocently, "Though it is admirable of you to wish for Emily to be close to her sisters."
"I am told it is the best way to keep a woman happy," Freddie shrugged, "Now, all I need, if you don't mind me asking, is your permission."
"My permission?" Mr Mifford's bushy brows disappeared into his hairline, "My lord, I have raised four daughters and having spent over two decades in a house full of women, let me offer you this piece of advice."
Mr Mifford paused, for dramatic effect.
"You are not in charge. You might think you are, the world might tell you that you are, but--believe me--you are not."
"Understood," Freddie lifted his pint in salute of his advice, before taking a very large sip.
"Good," Mr Mifford smiled, "Life is much easier when you know your place. Now, the next drink is on me--I rather think you'll need it after that."
Mr Mifford hailed Angus, who supplied both men with another round of drinks, and continued to do so until the bell was rung and last orders called.
After parting ways with Mr Mifford, Freddie returned to his rooms at The King's Head, content that his mission to Plumpton had been something of a success.
He had the house, he had met the neighbours, he had even ingratiated himself with his potential father-in-law; now all he needed, was for Emily to say yes.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily had not expected to feel Lord Chambers' absence quite so keenly, but in the days which followed their kiss, she found herself longing for his presence, as well as mulling over why it was that he had disappeared.
Was it possible that he was a rake, after all? Had he snatched one kiss and given up the chase?
He had written her a short note, to explain that he had been temporarily called away from town--but was that just a ruse?
Emily had little experience with men--well none, in fact--but despite this, she could not believe that her assessment of Lord Chambers' character could be so far off the mark. True, he was arrogant and too handsome for his own good, but the earnestness with which he had attended to her had seemed so genuine.
He was a good man, she knew it, she just rather wished he would arrive at the door and prove it to her.
