Page 25 of The Meriwell Legacy
Sir Godfrey shuffled around. “Who is it, then? One of your stable hands? Perhaps it was he who did away with the chit in the shrubbery.”
The suggestion was so inapt, it left them all momentarily dumbfounded.
Alaric recovered first. “No—another of the female guests was discovered smothered in her bed this morning.”
“Mrs. Rosamund Cleary.” Constance’s tone was quietly condemnatory. “The lady who reported seeing a gentleman leaving the shrubbery around the time Glynis met her end.”
The news set Sir Godfrey back on his heels. He stared at Alaric, then looked at Percy. “Oh.”
Thereafter, Sir Godfrey made no further comment as he trailed Percy and Edward up the stairs. Alaric and Constance followed. When they reached Rosa’s room, Constance drew out the key; while she unlocked the door, she explained her part in the discovery and that she’d ensured nothing in the room had been altered since the body was found.
Sir Godfrey gave her an odd look, but when she stepped back and waved him inside, he ventured in—and stopped short just over the threshold. After several moments, he swallowed and said, “Ah. I see.”
All hint of his customary bluster had fled.
Alaric followed Constance into the room. She went to the side of the bed and lifted the heavy curtain aside to reveal the pillow. “This pillow was tucked down here, out of sight.” She reached down and lifted the pillow, then turned it and displayed the face of the pillowcase to Sir Godfrey, Percy, and Edward. “If you look closely, you can see the marks left by Mrs. Cleary’s powder and rouge and also her lip paint.”
His hands crossed on the head of his cane, on which he was leaning heavily, Sir Godfrey craned forward and peered, then, his face losing what little color he’d retained to that point, he nodded. “Yes.” His voice sounded strangled. “I see.”
“If any evidence beyond what you can see in the bed was required to determine that Mrs. Cleary was murdered,” Alaric grimly stated, “I contend that pillow and case puts the matter beyond doubt. Rosa Cleary was smothered.”
Constance added, “Almost certainly by the same man who murdered my cousin, Miss Johnson.”
In a voice devoid of emotion, Percy said, “Carradale and I checked with Carnaby, and he swears the house’s doors and windows were all locked last night. Given Miss Johnson’s death, the company retired early, and Carnaby and the footmen made doubly sure there was no way that any itinerant”—Percy gave the word contemptuous emphasis—“could gain entry.”
“Further to that, Carnaby checked again this morning, and no door or window shows signs of being forced,” Alaric stated. “So unless you wish to postulate that two ladies being murdered at one house on two consecutive nights is the work of two different murderers, one an itinerant and the other someone who is residing under this roof, then we have a double murderer who is almost certainly one of the gentlemen currently staying at Mandeville Hall.”
Alaric caught Sir Godfrey’s gaze. “In my opinion, you should summon Scotland Yard immediately.”
He wasn’t all that surprised when, after a fractional hesitation, Sir Godfrey nodded. Realization, followed by swift calculation, had gleamed in the magistrate’s eyes; investigating a double murder committed by a gentleman at a ton house party held the potential for all manner of social mantraps that—pride be damned—Sir Godfrey would prefer to avoid.
“Harrumph! Yes.” Having made his decision, Sir Godfrey was eager to extricate himself with all speed. He turned from the bed and addressed Percy. “I’ll send a message by courier as soon as I get home. Regardless, anyone the Yard sends won’t reach here before tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.” Sir Godfrey started for the door. “I will, of course, return to consult with the inspector sent to take charge and offer him my insights. Until then, my earlier edict regarding everyone remaining at the Hall must stand.”
Constance returned the pillow to where it had been. Seeing Sir Godfrey almost at the door, she frowned. “Sir Godfrey—what about the bodies?”
“Heh?” Sir Godfrey, Percy, and Edward had all started for the door. All three looked back, the magistrate with his bushy eyebrows rising.
Hiding her exasperation—men!—Constance waved at the body in the bed. “We can’t leave Mrs. Cleary like this. And what of my cousin’s remains?”
Sir Godfrey regarded Rosa’s body anew. “I’m sure whoever is sent will want us to keep things the way they are as far as possible. But as for the bodies, they should, I believe, be placed on ice, or at least somewhere cool, until the inspector from Scotland Yard releases them.”
Unsure, Constance glanced at Carradale. He dipped his head. “The cool room here holds temperature reasonably well. If the inspector arrives tomorrow afternoon, which he should, that should suffice.”
Percy looked at Rosa Cleary’s body, then met Constance’s gaze. “I’ll get Carnaby to arrange moving…Rosa.”
Satisfied, Constance nodded. Nevertheless, as she and Carradale followed the other three out of the room, she locked the door once more.
She strolled beside Carradale in the wake of the others as they went down the main stairs, through the front hall, and out onto the front porch.
Together with Carradale, she halted beside Edward and Percy and watched as Sir Godfrey’s footman helped hoist his master into his coach. Calling out a last promise to send a courier to London with all speed, Sir Godfrey rattled away down the drive.
Edward, whose expression had remained a mask of rectitude for the duration of Sir Godfrey’s visit, snorted softly. “An investigation run by Scotland Yard. Viscount Mandeville will be furious. And I can’t imagine how your mother and her cronies will react to the gossip. As for the rest of the family, I believe I can state with absolute assurance that they will be horrified.”
His expression close to blank, Percy regarded his cousin for a silent moment, then said, “At least Scotland Yard will get to the bottom of it.”
“Perhaps,” Edward scoffed. “But at what cost?” With an abrupt shake of his head, he stalked back into the house.
Percy sighed. He raised a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He means well, but he’s so damned focused on the family’s reputation, he simply doesn’t consider…” Belatedly realizing a lady was present, Percy looked up and grimaced. “Forgive me, Miss Whittaker.”
