Page 49 of Death at the Dower House
I nodded. So did Christopher. “But Francis had no reason to want to get rid of Constance’s mother,” he said.
“Not even if she objected to his courting her daughter?”
“Not after three days’ acquaintance,” I said. “He seems rather smitten with her, but it’s only been three days. And as I said, I’m not sure Lady Peckham even noticed. She was so busy watching Johanna vamp Crispin and Uncle Harold.”
Tom nodded. “It seems far-fetched, but I have to ask.”
“Of course. But I don’t think Francis had anything to do with it. For that matter, I haven’t noticed him indulging in anything but alcohol so far this trip. I think perhaps Aunt Charlotte’s death scared him off the Veronal, at least for the time being.”
“If I remember correctly from two weeks ago,” Tom said, “your cousin knew about Francis’s drug use?”
“Crispin, you mean?” Not my cousin, but yes, he was the one who had told me about it. “He had no reason to want to do away with Lady Peckham, either. She was thrilled about him and Johanna.”
“If he felt like he was being pushed into it?”
“He didn’t,” I said, since he’d given me the impression that he was quite happy to be vamped. “But even if he did, all he would have had to do was say no. They couldn’t force him.”
“Then let’s leave it here,” Tom said, “and move on.”
Twelve
Movingon meant sending Christopher and me back to the dining room with the directive to dispatch Francis to see him. This we did, and I took Francis’s place next to Constance, who was still trying to cope with the sudden news of her mother’s demise.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she said, certainly not for the first time, because Lady Laetitia rolled her eyes.
“Give it a rest, Constance. We all know that you and your mother were on bad terms the past few years.”
“We were not on bad terms!” Constance protested. “I loved my mother!”
“But you didn’t like the way she fawned over Johanna.”
Constance flushed. “Of course I didn’t. Would you have?”
Laetitia didn’t answer, which certainly meant that no, she wouldn’t, and furthermore, she hadn’t liked the way Johanna had fawned over Crispin, either.
“But I loved her,” Constance insisted. “I certainly wouldn’t have wanted her dead!”
“You might have wanted Johanna dead, though.”
Constance stared at her for a moment, mouth open and working, before she closed it again, apparently unable to find anything to say.
“Constance didn’t leave our room last night,” I said. “So whether she wanted Johanna dead or not—and I wouldn’t have blamed her, to be honest; Johanna was a cow—Constance didn’t have the opportunity to kill her. When she came upstairs, Johanna was still alive. Downstairs. Arguing with you—” I pointed at Lady Laetitia, “overhim.” I indicated Crispin. “And while we’re on the subject of cows—”
“Now, now, Darling,” Crispin interjected. His face was solemn, but I could hear the undertone of laughter in his voice.
I flicked a glance at him. “Sod off, St George. You know as well as I do that it was a terrible thing to say to someone who has just lost her mother.”
Crispin had nothing to say in response to that, so yes, he absolutely knew it.
“And if we’re going to discuss people who would have wanted Johanna out of the way,” I continued, turning back to Laetitia, “I’d say you—”
“Now listen here,” Marsden began.
I ignored him in favor of his sister. “You were the only one of us who had a room to yourself. You could come and go as you pleased. All the rest of us shared with someone, who would have heard us leave and come back in the middle of the night. You had the best opportunity to kill her, and probably the best motive for wanting her dead.”
Laetitia gaped at me. “Well, I never…”
“If you don’t like someone accusing you,” I told her, “then you shouldn’t accuse anyone else.”
