Page 12 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
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 justfine," 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 wasfine, 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 ratheryouhelp 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.
