Page 32 of The Curse of Ill-Gotten Gains
She consulted her list. “Lady Susan’s next.”
Barnaby informed Gearing, and while the butler went to look for her ladyship, Barnaby returned to the armchairs.
Stokes looked at Penelope. “So what can you tell me about Lady Susan?”
“She’s Pamela’s sister, younger by several years. As I recall, the sisters have always got on, always been quite close. Neither made any splash within the ton, and by ton standards, neitherwere attractive partis, as both have…difficultpersonalities. In particular, Susan is known the length and breadth of the ton as unrelentingly blunt and lacking all tact. However, being a marquess’s daughters, both sisters eventually married. Despite the shortcomings of her distinctly sharp and frequently unrestrained tongue, Susan is widely credited with making the better match in ultimately snaring Lord Goodrich.” Penelope met Stokes’s gaze. “If you found Pamela a trifle haughty, I should warn you that Susan is distinctly snootier and more inclined to keep her nose in the air. She often presents as quite rude.”
Stokes grunted, but, as the door opened, said nothing more.
Penelope, Barnaby, and Stokes rose, and Penelope thanked Susan for her attendance and directed her to the chair facing Penelope’s.
Susan nodded curtly and strode toward them. In general appearance, she was a younger version of her sister, perhaps an inch or so taller and a trifle more robust, more Junoesque. She, too, wore her dark hair drawn back from her face in an unflattering style that did nothing to soften the mannish line of her jaw.
Once Susan settled and the investigators resumed their seats, Penelope opened with their agreed first question.
Susan regarded her with a direct gaze. “My daughters and I arrived in our carriage on Saturday. We came early to spend an extra day with my sister and her family. As for why we are here, well, because we were invited, of course, and we—my sister and I—had hopes of fostering an attachment between my younger girl, Samantha, and Vincent.” Susan glowered, and her lips crimped in transparent annoyance.
Sensing something more to be learned, Penelope lightly inquired, “And how are matters faring in that regard?”
“They aren’t,” Susan bluntly replied. “It turned out that Monty had other ideas and strongly opposed the match.” Thatshe deeply resented her brother-in-law’s attitude was beyond question. “In light of his staunch opposition, I suppose you might say I’m here to cast the net more widely for both of my girls.”
“Were you and your family at Wyndham Castle recently, with Pamela and her family?”
“Yes. We went home for ten days, then came here.”
Mildly, Penelope asked, “On Monday morning, at what time did you come downstairs?”
“We—my daughters and I—came out of our rooms at about eight o’clock. We gathered in the corridor, and several other ladies and girls joined us—the Hemmingses among others—and we trooped downstairs together and went into the dining room.”
“And once you rose from the table?”
“A group of ladies left the dining room all at once. With the other matrons and the older ladies, I settled in the morning room at first. The young ladies took themselves off to the conservatory, except for Rosalind. She went upstairs.”
“And you remained in the morning room?”
Susan’s gown rustled as she shifted in the chair. “No. I routinely walk of a morning after breakfast, and I found the chatter a bit much, so I left the others and went out via the terrace to the rose garden. It’s a favorite place of mine here, at Patchcote. This estate used to be one of our family properties, so I’ve known the house since I was a child, and I’ve watched the roses develop over the years.” She paused, then exhaled and said, “I was standing among the roses when I heard Rosalind scream.”
“Do you know if anyone else left the house that morning?” Barnaby asked.
“I’ve no idea.” Susan frowned. “I believe the younger crew had spoken of going for a walk around the grounds at some point, but I don’t know if any of them had got that far beforeit happened.” She glanced at Barnaby. “I didn’t see anyone else while I was outside, if that’s what you want to know.”
Barnaby inclined his head.
Penelope leapt in to ask the question she hoped would elicit a possibly revealing answer. “If you would indulge us, what was your view of Monty?”
Susan’s lips primmed in overt disapproval. After several seconds of glaring at nothing, she replied, “It’s common knowledge that I always thought Pamela could have done much better for herself. Then again, she’s known for being stubborn, and there’s no accounting for taste. So for love of her, I had to accept him, didn’t I?” She uttered a harsh bark of a laugh. “The irony of Monty then declaring that Samantha wasn’t good enough for his son! That didn’t escape me, I can assure you!” Smoldering resentment underlaid the words.
When it was plain she was not about to volunteer anything more, in an even tone, Barnaby asked, “Do you know of any reason why someone would want to kill Monty?”
Susan regarded him dismissively. “No. Of course not.” She waved the point aside. “I might not have liked the man, but most found him a genial sort. A likeable fellow. I find the notion that he was murdered quite incomprehensible.”
Penelope glanced at Stokes, who fractionally shook his head, then she rose, encouraging Susan to do the same. “Thank you for your time, Lady Susan. And your confidences.”
Susan snorted. “Can’t see that they’ll get you much further. You should be out looking for some vagrant—it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Penelope accompanied her ladyship to the door, then sent Gearing to summon Richard.
As she returned to the central armchair, Stokes humphed. “She was out of the house, supposedly in the rose garden, which, I believe, is on the same side of the house as the orchard. Giventhe obvious rancor she bore the victim and her general attitude and temper, until we have her whereabouts confirmed over the period between nine and ten o’clock, she will remain a definite suspect.”
