Page 57 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“Horatia, if you’d prefer us to leave…” Lavinia’s mother said, breaking the silence, and the dowager looked up, her face a picture of sorrow.
But she shook her head, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes.
“No, Octavia. I wouldn’t hear of it. I want you here—I want you both here. It’s thanks to Lavinia we’ve discovered the truth,” she said, glancing at Lavinia, who blushed.
“Well… I…” she began, but Archie interrupted.
“No, it’s true. You’re the one who suggested looking at the diaries. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do it myself. I didn’t want to… well, the intimacies of it all. But you were right. They held the key to what happened, and now we know the truth,” he said, even as Lavinia shook her head.
“Well… we have our suspicions. Please don’t misunderstand me. I think Lord Bath is an odious man, but… a murderer?” shesaid, for she was still not entirely convinced of the arrogant aristocrat’s guilt.
A man could be a thorough rake—lascivious, lecherous, a womanizer—but be entirely innocent of any crime. Lavinia reminded herself she only suspected him of being the source of the rumors, and that was because of her own prejudice towards him. This was just the same; a single letter was no proof Lord Bath was the murderer. Archie narrowed his eyes, a look of disappointment coming over his face, as though he had expected her to support him without question.
“Are you saying you don’t believe he did it?” he exclaimed, and Lavinia shook her head.
“I’m just saying… well, I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know if he did it or not. But in a court of law, it’s evidence that matters, and the letter of a man in love is hardly enough,” Lavinia replied.
She was thinking back to her friend, the maid at her previous employment who had so often delighted in reading the macabre details of this or that gruesome crime. But it had always been the accounts of the trials Lavinia had found most interesting.
All too often, the perpetrator had been released on a technicality of evidence, or the fact their guilt could not be ascertained with absolute certainty. She did not want Archie’s hopes to be dashed. For even if Lord Bathwasresponsible for Gwendolene’s murder,they would need more proof than just the letter and the diary entries.
“Well… we’ll see what the magistrate has to say about it,” Archie said, scowling at Lavinia across the drawing room.
She did not want to argue with him… or upset him. But his mind was made up. He wanted someone to blame for Gwendolene’s death, and to assuage the obvious guilt he felt for having failed to prevent it. Lord Bath was the one, and there could now be no dissuading Archie from his task.
“Archie, are you certain about this,” his mother ventured, but the baron now rose to his feet, pointing angrily at his mother, who shrank back in fear.
“Am I the only one who wants to know the truth? Your problem is…” he began, but it was at this moment a knock came at the drawing room door, and Mr. Hargreaves appeared, informing the baron the magistrate had arrived.
Whatever Archie had intended to say was now lost, as the dowager, too, rose to her feet.
“Lavinia, we’ll stay here,” her mother said, but Archie shook his head.
“No, all of you come with me, I want to explain everything to him, and I might forget something. Come along,” he said, and it seemed the rest of them had no choice but to accompany him.
In the hallway, they found an official-looking man, who introduced himself as Sir Andrew Carshalton, the magistrate from Salisbury, and who was accompanied by two constables of the court.
“I understand you have some information relating to the death of your sister. You suspect foul play?” he said, and Archie nodded.
The baron ushered them into the study, unlocking the strong box and taking out the letter and diary.
“You’ll be aware of the tragic circumstances surrounding Gwendolene’s death… how unexpected it was. She was so young. It was… a tragedy,” he said, and the magistrate nodded.
“And you have my deepest condolences, My Lord,” he said, as Archie thrust the letter and diary into his hand.
“But these prove the tragedy was more than just an act of God. They prove she was murdered,” he exclaimed.
The magistrate raised his eyebrows at this overly dramatic statement, glancing at the two constables, who furrowed their brows.
“Perhaps you’d like to explain the matter further, My Lord,” he said, and Archie now began his explanation.
He left nothing unsaid, beginning his explanation with the smell of almonds on his sister’s breath, and concluding with the letter and diary entries—evidence he claimed was enough to convict Lord Bath of murder. The magistrate listened, nodding, and asking one or two questions for clarification. When Archie’s explanation had finished, he glanced at the two constables and shook his head.
“A single letter, My Lord—that’s your only evidence against Lord Bath. And having heard the letter read aloud, I doubt it comes from the mind of a man intent on murder,” he said.
Archie’s face fell.
“But… well, no, certainly it doesn’t—at the time of writing. But afterwards, now we know what we know…” Archie said, but the magistrate shook his head.
