Page 47 of Marriage and Murder
Madeline pulled a face, then hurried to lift the milk from the stove. She busied herself making hot cocoa for them both, then glanced at William, who had returned to the chair by the table. “What did you see of the intruder?”
He grimaced. “It was so dark, I could barely make anything out. And once he’d leapt over me and started down the stairs, he never looked back—never gave me any chance to see his face.”
Madeline set down both mugs of cocoa and slid into another chair. “What about outside? It was dark, but there was some moonlight.”
William sipped and nodded. “He—he was definitely a male—was tallish, leanish build, and, I would say, dark-haired.”
Madeline sighed. “So it could be Billy or, to my mind more likely, Viola’s secret admirer, H.”
William sipped again, then added, “If Jim Swinson had managed to get a key, it could have been him, although I don’t think it was.”
“Or,” Madeline said, cradling her mug between her hands, “it could have been someone else entirely.”
Early the next morning, Madeline and William got themselves ready to go to the inn in Tollard Royal and report the excitement of the night to Stokes and the Adairs.
Madeline hadn’t slept well after the intrusion and was grateful that Henry had offered to take her and William in his curricle to join the others at the inn.
Madeline made porridge, and she and William sat at the table, drizzled honey over their bowls, and ate.
After several silent minutes, Madeline said, “The more I think about the incident last night, the more it seems it was asthe inspector feared—that H, whoever he is, believes that Viola had, or might have, revealed something about him in her letters. Something that I might use to identify him.”
William nodded. “It does seem that way. I can’t imagine why Billy Gilroy or Jim Swinson or anyone else would want to try to creep up on you.”
Madeline tipped her head his way. “True. It always seems to come back to Viola’s secret admirer.” She paused, then added, “I do wish she’d told me his name.”
They were tidying the kitchen when the rattle of wheels in the lane heralded Henry’s arrival.
The relief Madeline felt on seeing his face was, she told herself, out of all proportion to the situation, yet she couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel safer, more secure, with Henry there, by her side.
Of course, he took one look at her face and instantly asked, “What’s wrong?” He glanced at William’s uncharacteristically solemn expression. “Has something happened?”
She and William exchanged a glance, then, between them, proceeded to describe the nighttime incident.
Predictably, Henry was shocked. “Good Lord! He actually came inside?”
“And up the stairs.” William beckoned Henry to the kitchen door and showed him the undamaged lock. “We’re sure he came in this way, because we’re certain we locked the door before we went to bed, and it was open—unlocked—when he left.”
“He had to have had a key,” Madeline said, “which reduces the suspect list to Billy Gilroy and our mysterious H, and there seems no reason that Billy would seek to harm me.”
Slowly, his gaze on her, Henry nodded. “I agree it’s not Billy. As matters stand, he has no reason whatsoever to attack you, and living in the village, he has to know that William has been staying here, standing guard.”
The sincere concern in his eyes warmed Madeline from the inside out.
Then, his expression firming, he met her gaze. “As soon as you’re both ready, I suggest we depart for the inn. Stokes and the Adairs need to hear about this sooner rather than later.”
With that, they all concurred, and a bare ten minutes later, Henry helped Madeline up to his curricle’s seat and checked that William was safely perched on the rear board, then Henry picked up the reins and set his chestnut trotting rapidly for Tollard Royal.
When Madeline, Henry, and William reached the King John Inn, they went straight to the door to the private parlor, knocked perfunctorily, and entered to find Penelope, Barnaby, and Stokes sipping tea and coffee, with the remains of their breakfasts already cleared away.
Penelope took one look at the newcomers’ faces and immediately asked, “What’s happened?”
Beside and opposite her, Barnaby and Stokes had also come alert, lowering their coffee cups to better study the visitors.
Henry steered Madeline to a chair and held it for her, then sat in the chair alongside.
Constable Price took up his customary stance by the door.
Madeline glanced at Henry, then looked at Penelope. “Last night, an intruder came into the cottage. He crept up the stairs, but luckily, William”—she threw a grateful glance at the young constable—“had insisted on sleeping on a pallet in the corridor outside my room, and in the dark, the intruder tripped over him.”
