Page 36 of Death at the Dower House
“But with Mother gone…”
“The police,” Dawson said, “gave clear instructions that the room was to be kept closed and locked.”
He pushed the cart to a standstill and straightened. And relented just a bit as he did it. “I’m sure you’ll get to see her before she’s taken away, Mr. Gilbert.”
Peckham flushed and dropped back onto his chair. Dawson turned to Christopher with a nod. “Mr. Astley. The police have been phoned and are on their way. You can ring up your mother now, if you want.”
Marsden and Peckham both looked over at that, and Marsden sniggered. “You’re phoning your mother, Astley?”
The inference—what kind of man are you, to call your mother when the going gets tough?—was there, and clear.
“I’m contacting my mother,” Christopher said coldly, “at Sutherland Hall, so she can break the news to Lady Peckham. I’m sure she’ll do it more gently than the police would.”
There wasn’t much Marsden could say to that, of course, and he didn’t try, although he did look a bit chastened. The corner of Crispin’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but was refraining. Deliberately.
“I’ll go with you,” I told Christopher as he pushed his chair back.
“To the telephone?” This was Marsden again, of course. “Are you going to hold his hand while he holds the ear piece?”
“I’ll hold anything he needs me to hold—!” I began, but before I had the chance to go on, Crispin had done it for me.
“I wouldn’t recommend getting on Darling’s bad side, Marsden,” he said languidly. “Much better to keep your mouth shut than antagonize her. She never forgets a slight, and never lets you forget that you slighted her. And after last night, you’re already on thin ice.”
“Thank you, St George,” I said, although it wasn’t what I’d call a compliment. Or at least not a very nice one.
He grinned. It wasn’t a very nice grin, either. “Don’t mention it, Darling. Much as I’d enjoy watching you eviscerate Lord Geoffrey, we’ve already had one murder here this weekend. That’s probably enough.”
Probably. Although eviscerating Lord Geoffrey did have its appeal.
At that point, Christopher was almost to the door, so I scurried after. Not quite quickly enough to miss the exchange that took place next, however.
“I had no idea you were so whipped, St George,” Marsden said, with a decided sneer to his tone.
“What, by Darling?” Crispin made a noise that might have been a derogative snort, but sounded more like suppressed laughter. “We all let Darling whip us. It’s easier than the alternative.”
Francis made a little humming sound. It could have been agreement, but sounded more like amusement, as well.
“Needs a good shagging,” Marsden commented, “to show her who’s boss.”
My cheeks flushed a deep red, and I thought about turning around and launching something at him—how dare he talk about me like that?—but there was nothing in range that I could throw, and anyway, the conversation went on.
“I’d give half my inheritance to watch you try to show Darling you’re boss,” Crispin commented, although his voice was tight.
Francis added, “I wouldn’t go there if I were you, Marsden. Not only will you have Pippa to contend with, and she’s quite enough all on her own, but you’ll be dealing with us, too. As St George said, much healthier for you to keep your mouth shut. Not to mention your hands to yourself.”
Someone must have informed Francis about what had happened in the parlor last night, it seemed. He clearly didn’t approve.
By then I was through the door and could close it behind me, so I did, with a bit more of a slam than I intended. It felt good to relieve some of my spleen, so I wasn’t about to apologize for it.
Christopher had made it to the telephone table in the reception room and had the receiver up to his ear while he was speaking into the mouthpiece. “Operator?”
I headed across the floor to him as he continued, “This is the Dower House in Marsden-on-Crane. I need you to put through a call to Sutherland14 in Wiltshire. I’ll wait.”
He leaned against the wall next to the table, receiver to his ear and ankles crossed, while on the other end of the line, the operator must be trying to make the connection to Sutherland Hall.
“Sounds like someone’s coming,” I said, since my ears had caught the sound of an engine outside.
“Probably the police,” Christopher answered.
