Page 31 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Lord Albermay was seated at - well, more slumped over - a large, mahogany desk at the centre of the room. From his dishevelled appearance, Eudora guessed that the viscount had stayed up all night; his cravat was loosely tied, his waistcoat wrinkled, and a definite shadow of stubble lingered around his jaw and neck. Upon the desk was a bottle of brandy, of which only the dregs remained and several old books, which he appeared to have been attempting to read. A remarkable feat, for Eudora was sure he was at the stage of inebriation where one might be expected to see double.
Her first reaction to finding the viscount in such a slovenly state, was to turn on her heel and flee - as any well-bred young lady would. Eudora, however, was not just any young lady; she was a young lady determined to solve a murder. Lord Albermay might no longer be the most likely suspect, but he was still asuspect. Eudora could not waste an opportunity to interrogate him, even if it was scandalous for her to remain alone with him.
“I don’t believe that I have had the chance to share my condolences on your father’s untimely demise, my lord,” Eudora said as she crept toward the table.
“Eh?” Lord Albermay said as he squinted at her in confusion, “Which one are you then?”
“Miss Mifford,” Eudora replied, somewhat taken aback that the viscount was so drunk that he lacked the capacity for even basic manners. “I am Lady Crabb’s sister - your hostess,” she clarified, just in case he had forgotten his whereabouts as well as his manners.
“Oh, yes, my esteemed hostess,” Lord Albermay said with slurred sarcasm, leaning his whole weight back against his chair so suddenly that it wobbled precariously. "I am so glad to have been invited to a party at which my father was murdered. Do pass on my thanks to your sister.”
Eudora, ever loyal to her sisters even when vexed with them, wanted to offer a stiff rebuttal to his false statement. Lord Albermay’s father had been murdered at the party, that much was true, but his son had not technically been invited at all. His presence was by mistake, not design.
Despite her irritation at his falsehoods, Eudora held her tongue. It was better to keep the viscount on side, she reasoned, and it would be distasteful to argue with the bereaved over a mere technicality.
“We are all upset at the murder of your father, my lord. What an awful fate to befall such a…kind gentleman.” Eudora offered, wondering how she did not choke on her words, given their falseness.
Lord Albermay clearly felt similarly, for he gave a snort of amusement.
“Kind?” he said, gesturing toward one of the open books, “My father was far from kind, Miss Mifford. He carried out some heinous acts in the name of profit, yet he still managed to bankrupt himself so badly that he was forced to marry an American.”
His last words were uttered with such loathing that Eudora felt a brief flash of fear for Lady Albermay.
“You think Lady Albermay the culprit?” Eudora whispered.
“I know she is,” the viscount replied, darkly, “There are many people who might have wished my father dead, but which of them could have made their way here through this weather to kill him?”
The viscount gestured wildly to the window, where outside the ground was blanketed with snow. It had begun to thaw a little, but it was still impossible for anyone to leave the manor. They were trapped.
“If you will excuse me,” Lord Albermay finished, “I must retire to bed and get some shut-eye. I shall want to hear a report from Lord Crabb later, about what he has discovered from his interviews.”
The viscount pushed back his chair and stumbled from the room, leaving Eudora quite alone. A little shaken by their interaction, she wandered across to the window, which looked out upon the grounds of Plumpton Hall. The leafless branches of the trees were stark against their white canvas, the entire garden silent and still. In the distance, if she squinted, Eudora could faintly make out the thatched rooftops of Plumpton, where chimney smoke gently curled against the murky, grey expanse of sky.
She longed for the cosy warmth of Primrose Cottage and wondered idly how Nora was faring alone.
She’s probably toasting her toes by the fireplace and taking full advantage of Mama’s absence, Eudora thought,momentarily glad that someone might be benefiting from the wretched weather.
She shivered; the grate had no fire despite the room having been occupied all night. Eudora supposed that all the brandy that Lord Albermay had consumed had saved him from the cold.
She made to leave in search of warmer climes, but the open books on the desk caught her eye. She squinted down at them, curious to see the viscount’s choice of reading material.
“The Complete Peerage,” Eudora said aloud as she recognised a heraldic illustration at the top of a page. The picture depicted the coat of arms of the viscountcy of Albermay, and beneath it, in two columns, were listed the notable ancestors, marriages, heirs, and relevant historical events or achievements associated with the family.
She felt slight pity for Lord Albermay, who had probably been perusing the book with nostalgia. She absently read down through the columns, which went through the family in detail and included some tales of the late viscount.
“As well as the sprawling estate of Albermay, the family fortune is tied to the glove-making industry, for which the town of Yeovil is world-renowned,” Eudora read aloud, “His lordship has invested in building a silk mill for the town, which is expected to increase both production and profits…”
Eudora skipped the rest of the paragraph, which continued to espouse the late viscount’s investing prowess.
It must be an old edition, Eudora thought as she gently shut the leather-bound book; it mentioned neither the viscount’s first marriage nor the fire which had destroyed the silk mill.
“My father carried out some heinous acts in the name of profit…”
Eudora recalled Lord Albermay’s earlier words and paused; was it possible that the viscount’s murder could be attributed to an act carried out years before? She wracked her mind to try torecall what had been said at dinner on the first night of the party, which now felt like aeons ago. Lord Albermay - or Mr Wellsely as he had been then - had insinuated that the mill had been losing money after the war and that it had burned down had been fortuitous rather than tragic.
Profitable even because of the insurance coin.
Eudora wrinkled her brow in thought and opened up The Complete Peerage again. She ran her finger down along the table of contents at the front of the book, until she found the family name she sought. Hands trembling, she flicked through hundreds of pages until she found the listing for the Earl of Arundel, headed by an illustration of the Percival Family coat of arms.
