Page 22 of The Meriwell Legacy
Her legs had thrashed violently, churning the covers.
She was very definitely dead.
Constance was dimly aware of others pushing into the room behind her. Unable to drag her eyes from the sight of a woman who only hours before had been very much alive, giving in to the pressure of bodies behind her, she slowly stepped forward and around the side of the bed.
She looked into Rosa’s face and saw terror etched in her features—in those staring, now-blind eyes with their expression of horrified disbelief.
Several of the ladies had peered in; gasps and wails—quickly cut off—came from beyond the door.
Most of the gentlemen—stony-faced and grim—had pushed into the room, but they remained closely bunched, blocking the door.
Then Percy arrived. “What’s happened?”
Constance tore her gaze from Rosa Cleary’s face and looked up as the gentlemen shuffled and let Percy through, into the clear space at the foot of the bed.
She studied Percy as his gaze fell on Rosa’s body. Already hollow-eyed and pasty, he lost every vestige of color, and his eyes widened until it seemed they would fall from his head. As Constance had done, he stared. “Oh God. No—not Rosa as well.”
His shock and the stunned grief in his voice struck Constance as entirely genuine. No man could be such a good actor.
The gentlemen before the door shifted again, and Edward Mandeville appeared. He walked forward, halting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Percy.
After a second of looking down on Rosa’s body, Edward humphed. “This is very distressing. I heard that she was unwell last night and retired early. Perhaps she had a weak heart.”
Constance frowned. “I don’t think she died of any malady.”
His expression registering faint distaste, Edward lightly shrugged. “I admit I know little of such things.” His gaze went past Constance; she followed it to the small table beside the bed—to a vial of laudanum standing beside a glass of water. “Perhaps it was an accident. I understand many women are addicted to that stuff.”
Still frowning, Constance looked at the body. “Laudanum kills while the victim sleeps—they simply never wake.” At the edge of her vision, she noticed the ivory-white of a pillow tucked down beside the head of the bed, half hidden by the drapes that hung there.
She looked up as Percy waved at the body and, in a choked voice, said, “It’s obvious Rosa was awake when she died.”
Edward’s frown deepened until it approached an aggravated scowl. “Perhaps she was. But surely there must be some mundane explanation for her death.”
Everyone—including the men still crowded before the door—looked at Edward in disbelief.
Constance remembered the comments various members of the company had made regarding Edward’s presence at the house party—that he’d been sent by Percy’s family to ensure nothing scandalous occurred. Given Edward’s role, in the circumstances, it was perhaps unsurprising that he did not want Rosa’s death to be another murder.
Dismissing Edward and his wishes, Constance looked at Percy. “I believe the proper course of action is to summon a doctor to confirm the cause of death.”
Percy blinked at her, then nodded. “Yes. That’s what we should do.”
“And perhaps,” Constance went on, “we should send for Lord Carradale. He knows the situation here and will also know the doctor and can assist with deciding what action should be taken once we have the doctor’s verdict.”
“Yes.” Percy nodded more decisively.
Several of the men behind him nodded, too; Constance had noted that most of the guests had confidence in Carradale as one who knew how to navigate the pitfalls of their world.
Percy turned and tried to see over the wall of men. “Carnaby—are you there, man?”
“Yes, sir,” the butler replied from the corridor.
“Send for Dr. Swale,” Percy ordered. “Tell him we’ve a lady found dead in her bed and need his services urgently. And also send to Carradale and ask him to come as soon as he can.”
“Indeed—at once, sir.”
The gentlemen before the door started to file out of the room.
Constance hesitated; she wanted to look at the pillow hidden beside the bed, but didn’t want anyone to know she’d spotted it. She also didn’t want anyone straightening Rosa’s legs and fingers and closing her eyes before the doctor and Carradale had viewed the body. To her mind, how the body lay was the most critical evidence that Rosa’s death had been anything but natural.
