Page 16 of The Meriwell Legacy
At his aggressive tone, Rosa paled and looked to be on the point of bolting.
Alaric crisply stated, “This is Mrs. Rosamund Cleary—the lady who glimpsed the gentleman leaving the shrubbery last night.”
Rosa tipped up her chin. “Yes. That’s right.”
“Indeed.” With a welcoming gesture, Miss Whittaker—Constance—invited Rosa to sit beside her on the sofa; Monty readily moved along to give her space. “We’re grateful for your assistance, Mrs. Cleary.”
Alaric noted the look Constance shot Sir Godfrey.
In response, the magistrate grumbled, but as Rosa sank onto the sofa and Constance joined her and the other men resumed their seats, Sir Godfrey had no option but to do the same and allow Rosa—encouraged by Constance—to recount what she had seen.
Sir Godfrey’s first reaction was to challenge Rosa over the man’s station. “Surely, given you couldn’t see well enough to recognize the man, he might have been some itinerant. Or one of the gardeners or grooms?”
“No.” Rosa’s chin firmed, and her gaze remained steady. “On that point, I’m quite certain. He was a gentleman—by dress, by confidence and stride, by his hair and cravat—I saw clearly enough to see all that. I didn’t see his face or even his profile, or anything singular by which to identify him, but he was most certainly a gentleman…although whether he was one of the gentlemen presently in this house, I can’t rightly say. He might have come from elsewhere.”
“But when last you saw him, he was walking toward the house,” Alaric put in. “You said he was heading toward the front door, which would, at that time, have been on the latch.”
Rosa nodded. “Yes. That’s correct.”
Sir Godfrey had been frowning direfully, transparently displeased to have such information so forcefully placed before him, but now his expression cleared. “Aha!” He looked at Rosa, then at Percy. “Clearly, Mrs. Cleary here saw one of your gentlemen out taking the air—just as she was. The gentleman had no doubt gone for an innocent walk in the shrubbery—nothing suspicious about that, heh? He must have passed out of the shrubbery before the incident with Miss Johnson occurred. Yes, yes.” Sir Godfrey warmed to his theme. “Nothing to it. All perfectly innocent, what?”
Clinging to patience—knowing that was the only way to deal with Sir Godfrey—Alaric evenly said, “Unfortunately, none of the gentlemen will admit to being the man conveniently out taking the air. As you say, if any had been that man, engaged on a perfectly innocent walk, there should be no reason not to own to it. However, none will. And as one might expect, that has inevitably given rise to a cloud of suspicion that now hangs over the head of every gentleman here.”
That was, perhaps, overstating things—at least at present. But it needed no stretch of the imagination to foresee that if the murderer of Glynis Johnson wasn’t identified, the possibility of being guilty could well deepen to the level of a social stigma that attached to all the gentlemen there, despite only one having done the deed.
Imperturbably, Alaric went on, “As the senior peer present”—with such as Sir Godfrey, it never hurt to remind him of title and station—“my opinion is that, in such unfortunate circumstances, in addition to the justice owed to Miss Johnson and her family, the interests of all the guests will also be best served by a thorough investigation—one leading to Miss Johnson’s murderer being caught.”
Invoking social opprobrium—the blame for which some might later lay at the magistrate’s door—was, in Alaric’s view, the fastest way to get Sir Godfrey to give the murder the attention it was due. Holding Sir Godfrey’s gaze, Alaric continued, “Many of the gentlemen guests present have yet to marry, and these days, fond mamas and papas are wont to look askance at any suitor with unresolved questions hanging over his name.”
Sir Godfrey harrumphed. He looked down, clearly canvassing his options, then he cast Alaric a malevolent glance. “And how will you feel, my lord, when it’s you being questioned, heh?”
Alaric arched his brows. “I’m only too happy to be questioned by you or anyone else. I’m not staying at the Hall but at Carradale Manor, and I had left for home an hour or more before last night’s entertainment ended. My movements can be verified by Mandeville’s and my own staff. I wasn’t here when Miss Johnson was murdered.” He allowed his voice to grow colder. “But other gentlemen were, and in light of Mrs. Cleary’s sighting and the lack of any gentleman admitting to being out taking the air, I suggest you will need to satisfy yourself and all those here that one of the company is not the murderer before washing your hands of this case.”
Sir Godfrey was known to be an irrationally stubborn man; his scowl only deepened and his resistance, palpable, hardened.
Constance’s clear tones cut through the simmering silence. “The Whittakers might not be local, however, I can assure you that my grandfather has many highly placed friends, and he will not be pleased to learn that the murder of his cousin’s daughter was not accorded a thorough and exhaustive investigation and that the man responsible wasn’t brought to justice.”
The calculation in Sir Godfrey’s eyes suggested he didn’t know whether to risk Constance’s grandfather’s ire or not.
“It seems to me,” Alaric said, “that given the circumstances, the least you can do is to properly investigate.”
“Humph!” Sir Godfrey’s exclamation was less trenchantly resistant than before. “Don’t try to tell me how to do my job—of course I’ll properly investigate…” Blinking, Sir Godfrey broke off. “If that’s what’s called for.”
Alaric endeavored to make his next statement as much of a suggestion as he could. “That will mean instructing everyone to remain at the Hall until you can be sure who the murderer is—one of the company or otherwise. Of course, that way, if anyone seeks to leave prematurely—or actually runs—that could surely be taken as an admission of guilt, don’t you think?”
From experience, Alaric knew Sir Godfrey was suggestible. The magistrate appeared to be imagining how such an investigation might go…
Eventually, Sir Godfrey turned to Percy. “Is that what you want, then? A thorough investigation? Surely you don’t wish to have this matter further inconvenience your guests to that extent.”
Percy stared at Sir Godfrey as if seeing him clearly for the first time. The magistrate’s last question appeared to have stripped away any lingering shock and seized and focused Percy’s wits. “No.” The word was cold, sharp, and decisive. “However, Miss Johnson was killed—murdered—in my house. Under my roof, so to speak, where she should have been safe. Where she was, in effect, under my protection. Nothing can erase that or the duty I therefore must assume to ensure all is done—every last stone turned—to identify the murderer and bring the miscreant to justice.”
Alaric felt like applauding; Percy had finally found his backbone.
Percy cast a glance at Edward—reminding Alaric of Edward’s purpose in being at Mandeville Hall. Regardless, Percy, his voice gaining strength, declared, “And as Carradale pointed out, my guests—the gentlemen at least—will not be best served by having an unsolved murder in their past, one they might be suspected of having committed.” Percy met Alaric’s eyes and, seeming to draw strength from the contact, concluded, “I agree with Carradale. For everyone’s sakes, a thorough investigation must be mounted and Miss Johnson’s murderer apprehended.”
“I entirely agree,” Constance stated, sparking murmurs of agreement from Monty and Rosa, too.
Alaric looked at Edward, but he was looking down at his clasped hands. Given his self-appointed role of defender of the family’s name, Edward’s resistance to the notion of a full-scale investigation was understandable. It wasn’t, however, tenable in the circumstances, and Edward appeared to have accepted that.
