Page 77 of Lies in Little Sutherland
I think of him as Uncle Harold, but I rarely call him that.Certainly not when he’s addressing me formally.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for Christopher,” I said brightly, indicating the door across the hallway.“He’s changing.”
The duke looked mollified.Most likely he was happy that I wasn’t lying in wait for his son and heir, or perhaps he appreciated the fact that I left Christopher to change in peace.In truth, if this had been a real situation, I would have been inside Christopher’s room with him.I have seen him change plenty over the dozen years or so that we’ve lived together.As it was, I merely smiled politely and waited for His Grace to take his leave.It wouldn’t do to have Christopher step out of Crispin’s room while Crispin’s father stood here.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me what’s going on in my carriage house?”the duke inquired.
I blinked.“Didn’t Christopher explain when he fetched Tom earlier?”
Uncle Harold shook his head.“Kit fetched Detective Inspector Gardiner, but without telling the rest of us what had happened.I assumed it had something to do with that sad affair in the village?—”
“Doctor Meadows, do you mean?”
He nodded.“—but then I saw several additional constables arrive and proceed into my carriage house.I thought perhaps you could enlighten me.You seem to know everything that goes on around here.”
That sounded like a dig, and I wanted to take offense to it.But he was my host for the week, and nothing good would come from sniping back at him.I stuffed the inclination and took a breath before I told him, pleasantly, “I’m sorry to be the one to impart bad news.Something has happened to Alfie.”
“Alfie?”
“Alfred,” I said.“The footman?”
The duke nodded.“Of course.The one who occasionally serves as chauffeur now that Wilkins is gone.”
“That’s the one.”
I don’t know why I expected any sort of emotional response to the announcement, whether for the mention of Alfred or Wilkins, who had been Uncle Harold’s nephew, even if no one had known that.Needless to say, there was no emotional response whatsoever.
“What was he doing in the carriage house?”Uncle Harold inquired.“I haven’t required the use of the motorcar today.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”Although it was a valid point.On a day when Uncle Harold wasn’t going anywhere, Alfie had no business around the garage.He had duties in the house instead.
“And what happened to him?”Uncle Harold wanted to know.
“It looked as if someone hit him over the head with a blunt instrument.”
Uncle Harold blinked.“Indeed?”
“That’s what it seemed like to me.I don’t know who or with what, although it’s possible that the constables have found the murder weapon by now.”
A noise to my right brought my head around in that direction.It took only a second for my mind to translate it into the sound a doorknob makes when it’s turned, and I blanched.What a time for Christopher to come out of Crispin’s room!
But then it turned out to be the door to the servants’ staircase again.I had a single second to breathe out in relief before the door opened and I saw who stepped through.
“Father.”Crispin looked from Uncle Harold to me.His brows drew together.“Darling?”
I managed a smile.“I’m sorry for loitering outside your door, St George.I’m waiting for Christopher to finish changing.I suspect he wants to get out of the clothes he wore when we found the body.”
Crispin nodded and turned towards his own door.“If you’ll excuse me.”
I watched helplessly as he reached for the handle.There was nothing I could do.I couldn’t rap on the door to alert Christopher; not with both of them standing here.And while I could have tried to keep Crispin here in the hallway, the jig would have been up when Christopher came out of his rooms anyway.Best, perhaps, to let Crispin go inside and catch his cousinin flagrante.Christopher might be able to talk his way out of the situation, and at least Uncle Harold wouldn’t be privy to the confrontation.
I forced another smile and a pleasant nod.“Of course.”
Crispin—who could no doubt see that it was forced—hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking between me and his father.But eventually he gave Uncle Harold a polite nod—“Father,”—and me another one, “Darling,”—before he pushed his door open and disappeared inside.
Uncle Harold eyed me.
