Page 60 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“So you think the dead man travelled with Mr Lowell to Plumpton?” Rob clarified, his expression a little perplexed.
“I don’t think that our Mr Lowell is who he says he is,” Eudora stressed, “Did Dr Bates not say that the initials on the dead man’s clothes spelt R.L.? That’s a better match for Lowell than J.A.M., don’t you think?”
“It is,” Rob conceded, “But I can’t see a motive, Eudora.”
Eudora was about to throw her hands up in frustration when she realised she was still clutching the rag-doll. The doll found at the scene of the murder—the one which Lord Albermay’s valet claimed he had never seen in his long years of service.
She stilled, raking over every conversation she’d had with Mr Lowell until it finally dawned on her.
“His sister,” she whispered, “Mr Lowell—or whoever he is—told me that he’d lost his sister at a very young age. I’ll bet you anything that this doll belongs to her, and that Lord Albermay somehow played a part in her death.”
Eudora watched carefully as Lord Delaney digested her theory. She briefly wondered if she was asking too much of his faith in her. Was her supposition so wild as to be unbelievable?
“Did you spend much time alone with Mr Lowell, then?” he finally said, his words sounding a little strangled.
Eudora bit her lip to hold in a giddy giggle; he wasn’t doubting her, he was jealous.
“I hold no feelings for Mr Lowell whatsoever,” she assured him, “We had one conversation alone that happened by chance and was fleeting.”
“Right,” Lord Delaney nodded, rubbing a hand through his dark curls, “Forgive me, I’m not usually the jealous sort. And, I suppose, now is not the time for me to seek to reassure my ego—we have a murderer to catch.”
With that, Lord Delaney threw open the door, grabbed Eudora’s hand, and raced outside. Together, they ran toward the stables, both now acutely aware that Mr Lowell might already have vanished.
When they reached the stable yard the only person to be seen was a young lad brushing snow from the cobblestones.
“Is Mr Lowell about?” Robert called to him.
“In the last stall, my lord,” the lad replied, as he tipped his hat respectfully.
Rob clutched Eudora’s hand tighter and led them briskly to the stall at which the lad had pointed.
Once they reached it, Rob stepped forward, gesturing for Eudora to stay behind him.
For a moment, she thought he meant to exclude her from the entire confrontation, but as he glanced back to make sure she was following him, she realised that he simply wished to protect her. He wanted to place his body between her and an uncertain danger—if their situation hadn’t been so dire, Eudora might have swooned.
She stayed behind him as they entered the dimness of the stall. The air inside was an earthy mix of dirt, hay, and feed, and the only sound was the disgruntled snorts of its occupant.
“Mr Lowell?” Robert called.
Eudora peered out from behind the baron to witness Mr Lowell—busy fitting bags to the saddle—turn to face them. His expression was one of rueful defeat, Eudora thought.
“My lord,” Mr Lowell replied, congenial as ever, “Can I be of service?”
“You could start by admitting that you murdered Lord Albermay,” Rob answered, matching Mr Lowell’s calmness.
Mr Lowell glanced from Rob to Eudora and then down to the rag doll she clutched in her hand. His expression darkened at the sight of it; he squared his shoulders, looked Lord Delaney in the eye, and gave an indifferent shrug.
“That I did,” he agreed, “And if given the opportunity, I would gladly kill the man again.”
“He killed your sister,” Eudora ventured, stepping out to stand beside the baron.
“And he felt no remorse,” Mr Lowell replied, “You heard him at dinner the first night. He laughed when he recounted the act of arson that burned his factory to the ground and took my sister’s life.”
Eudora shivered as she recalled Lord Albermay recounting the tale of the loss of his factory. Fate can be cruel, but she can also be kind; that’s what he’d said when his son had mentioned that the insurance payout had come at the expense of a young girl’s life.
“She worked there,” Mr Lowell explained, his words directed to Eudora, “We both did. After our mother died, we were made wards of the Parish of Yeovil and given employment and lodgings at the factory with other orphaned children.”
“What happened?” Eudora whispered, clutching harder to the rag-doll than ever.
