Page 14 of The Meriwell Legacy
The reason for their discussion wasn’t anything to smile about, so she compressed her lips against the urge, but his bone-dry delivery left her in little doubt that, more than once, he had indeed been used as a means to prod another gentleman to action.
Swiftly, she cast her mind over the points they’d touched on—and felt somber sadness engulf her once more. Just for a few seconds, the grief she was holding at bay had eased…
She glanced sharply at Carradale and found him watching her.And realized that, while he’d been answering her questions and furthering their understanding of the circumstances surrounding Glynis’s death, he’d also been…distracting her from the shock and sadness that, no matter how hard she endeavored to suppress it, lay waiting, hovering at the edge of her mind.
“I didn’t know Glynis all that well—not like a sister.” She had no idea why she felt she needed to tell him that; perhaps because he was being understanding, and she wasn’t sure she deserved his sympathy. “There were too many years between us, and we lived in different towns.”
His gaze remained steady. “Nevertheless, it had to have been a nasty shock. She’s one of your kin, after all.”
If she acknowledged the shock, the emotional turmoil that had erupted when she’d looked down at Glynis’s body, Glynis’s pretty face grotesquely distorted…a potent combination of grief and rage would swamp her, and she would rail and lose direction. With grim determination, she forced the emotions back into the box in which she’d trapped them and slammed down the lid. She met Carradale’s gaze head-on. “To my mind, the best way I can mourn Glynis is by ensuring justice is done and that her murderer is caught and hanged.”
His gaze steady on her face, he inclined his head in agreement. “She was an innocent in all the ways that count—such as she deserve to be avenged.”
“Exactly.” She thought of their questions and what they might do to find answers. “Mrs. Macomber might have been ineffective in reining Glynis in, but she’s not without eyes and ears and a degree of common sense. Presumably, she’ll know why Glynis wanted to come to Mandeville Hall—she must at least know something of that.” She paused, then sighed. “Of course, I’ll have to wait until she recovers enough to attain coherency.” She met Carradale’s eyes. “Seeing Glynis like that…overset her.”
She caught the fractional upward twitch of his lips and felt she’d at least partly paid him back for his attempt to lighten her mood.
A throat being cleared had them both looking toward the front door.
The butler, Carnaby, a surprisingly thin, aesthete-looking individual, regarded them impassively. “Ma’am, your lordship, if you would care to partake, we’ve arranged a cold collation in the dining room.”
“Thank you, Carnaby,” Carradale said.
The butler bowed and withdrew.
Alaric looked at his Amazon; she didn’t appear to be the sort of female who would consider starving herself to be a good idea, even in the present circumstances. When she glanced his way, he arched a brow at her. “I suspect this afternoon is going to be a long one. We should keep up our strength.”
She studied his face for a second, then observed, “You said that with a certain authority. I believe I’ll take heed.”
He rose as she did and fell in beside her as she made for the door.
As he reached for the doorlatch, she added, “It does seem wise to fortify ourselves before spending hours dealing with a magistrate who goes by the name of Stonewall.”
Alaric grinned entirely spontaneously and briefly met her eyes, then he opened the door and followed her over the threshold—into the deadening hush of a house hosting a company all of whom suspected that their number included a gentleman with, metaphorically at least, blood on his hands.
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Chapter 3
To Constance’s dismay, she discovered that Carradale’s assessment of Sir Godfrey Stonewall was all too accurate. Stonewall proved to be a pompous ignoramus and arrogant with it.
The magistrate was in his later middle years and clearly liked his food. His coat strained over his paunch, and judging by the way he stumped around, supporting his bulk with a cane and grumbling when he needed to take the steps up to the front door, he suffered from gout.
In addition to being of irascible temper and unprepossessing mien, Sir Godfrey lost no time in getting on her bad side; on entering the house, after shaking Percy Mandeville’s hand, Stonewall ignored her, Carradale, Monty Radleigh, and Edward Mandeville, along with all the other guests hovering farther back in the hall, and suggested that he—Sir Godfrey—and Percy should repair to the library and “settle this business,” for all the world as if Glynis’s murder was nothing more than a bothersome occurrence.
To her relief, Edward frowned and insisted that he, as an older member of the family, should be present as well, then Carradale calmly pointed out that what knowledge Percy had was second-hand at best, while he, Carradale, had been the one to discover the body, while Constance—he included her with a glance and a half bow—was the deceased young lady’s relative, and Monty had been present when the body was found as well.
Sir Godfrey huffed and puffed, but when neither Percy nor any of the other guests supported his view, Sir Godfrey grumpily consented to meet with Carradale, Constance, Edward, and Monty, along with Percy. With what was doubtless supposed to be an ingratiating glance at the other guests, Sir Godfrey declared that he saw no reason to inconvenience them further.
Constance noted that none of the guests appeared particularly grateful.
Edward glanced at Percy, then suggested the drawing room as a more appropriate venue. Once inside with the door shut, after Constance sank onto the sofa, with Monty alongside, Carradale and Edward found straight-backed chairs and positioned them facing the fireplace, while Percy took one of the armchairs beside the hearth. Sir Godfrey settled in its mate and disgruntledly barked, “Well—tell me what happened.”
Unperturbed by the edict—as if such boorish, offhand behavior was no more than what he’d expected of the man—Carradale recited the bald facts of arriving at the stable that morning and walking to the house via the path through the shrubbery and discovering Glynis’s body. He concluded with “Miss Johnson had obviously been strangled.” He glanced at Constance and Monty. “At that point, I was joined by Mr. Radleigh and Miss Whittaker—Miss Johnson’s cousin.”
“Mrs. Macomber, Miss Johnson’s chaperon, was with us as well,” Monty supplied.
“Indeed.” Constance fixed Sir Godfrey with a severe look. “As Lord Carradale says, it was instantly apparent that my cousin had met her death at some man’s hands. As both his lordship and Mr. Radleigh confirmed that she was wearing the same gown as she had worn the previous evening and her body and gown were damp with dew, it seems clear that she was killed during the early hours—sometime after the other guests retired.”
