Page 59 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Something stirred in Eudora’s memory, but she couldn’t grasp it.
“You came all this way, along muddy roads, to tell the viscount that the man expired of natural causes?”
This time, it was Rob’s sigh, which was loud enough to be audible from behind the door.
“Yes, well, it’s been a long few days all cooped up inside,” Dr Bates blustered, “And Lord Crabb does keep a well-stockedcellar. You almost sound as though you’d like the man to have been murdered, my lord?”
“It might make solving a murder we had here much easier,” Rob responded to the doctor’s scolding tone with a snap.
“A murder?” Eudora heard the doctor gasp, “Here? Heaven, I really will need that brandy.”
Eudora stepped back from the door as Lord Delaney uttered several epithets—one or two entirely new to Eudora’s ears. A bell tinkled in the distance, indicating that the baron had acquiesced to Dr Bates’—almost admirable—dogged pursuit of a brandy.
“Someone will be along in a moment,” she heard Rob assure the doctor before adding, “One last question: Was there anything at all on the man’s person that might have identified him?”
“Just all that strange white dust,” Dr Bates replied, “And his coat was initialled on the inside collar; R.L.—don’t suppose you know someone by those initials?”
Once again, Eudora felt a stirring somewhere deep in her mind. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow as she tried to dredge up a memory that would not come. She clutched the rag-doll in her hands so tightly that her knuckles ached as she tried to will her brain to work.
“Are you well, Eudora, you’ve turned awfully pale?”
Eudora opened her eyes to find the baron staring at her, his chocolate-brown eyes deep with concern. His nearness caused her heart to flutter, but she ignored it as best she could.
“I was thinking,” she whispered, gesturing for him to follow her away from the door, “I’m certain the body that we found has something to do with Lord Albermay’s murder; I just can’t make the connection.”
“It will come to you,” Robert assured her.
His confidence in her was so certain that it filled Eudora with warmth. There was no one else in the world who held such a firm belief in her.
As they returned to the entrance hall, Eudora worried that Lord Delaney’s belief might be somewhat misplaced. For, try as she might, she could not summon up the memory that niggled at her.
The air in the entrance hall was frigid, for the door had been left ajar. Eudora moved to close it—fearing a lecture from Jane when she woke—but before she reached the door, the dainty figure of Flora dashed through it.
“It’s still cold enough,” the maid grumbled, “Despite the thaw.”
She held an empty tray in her hands, which Eudora assumed she had used to ferry cups of tea to the lads working outside.
“Oh,” Flora blinked as she realised she wasn’t alone, “Begging your pardon, Miss Mifford. I didn’t think there were any other guests awake.”
“Is someone else about?” Eudora replied, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder in case Mrs Canards suddenly appeared.
“Just Mr Lowell, Miss,” Flora replied cheerfully, “He was up at dawn, readying himself for his trip to Bristol. It’s madness to travel today, in my opinion, but what do I know about business?”
“Last night, he said he was going to Plymouth…” Eudora stilled as, finally, the dots connected.
She whirred on her feet to face Lord Delaney, who read her expression correctly.
“Where is Mr Lowell now, Flora?” Rob asked his tone so mild that Flora thought nothing of the question.
“He’s gone!” she answered, in her sing-song voice, “Just left for the stables with some of his belongings. He’s ever so kind; hegave me six pence for making sure he had a cup of tea before he set off.”
“How kind of him,” Eudora agreed, though the words almost choked her. Flora smiled in agreement, bid the pair goodbye and scurried off to the kitchen.
Once her footsteps had faded, Eudora burst out, “It’s him! Mr Lowell murdered Lord Albermay—oh, but I don’t think he’s Mr Lowell at all.”
“Take a breath,” Robert commanded, “And then explain.”
“It’s the dust,” Eudora whispered before hastily continuing so he would not think her fit for bedlam, “On the first night, Lady Albermay complained about all the dust in her father’s cotton mills—and now Dr Bates has said he found it all over that dead man’s clothes. I saw it myself on the man’s handkerchief, remember? He has to be connected to a cotton mill; there’s no other explanation.”
