Chapter Eleven
Dr. Scott paused inside the threshold of the study and after some apparent internal debate, he closed the door behind him. “I saw no one in this part of the house,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want to take any chances of us being overheard.”
Selena nodded from her seat behind her desk.
It was a treat, as always, just to look at the man.
He was dressed for dinner in the gleaming, black frock coat and trousers that had been altered for him so expertly.
A white cravat was gracefully tied at his throat above a white shirt and white, embroidered waistcoat.
He looked impossibly handsome. To think that she had just spent several minutes kissing him in a dark closet!
The memory sent a ripple dancing from her head to her toes that made it impossible not to smile.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to clear her mind, Selena said quietly, “I thought you could sit there.” She indicated the chair opposite her desk. “That way, if anyone should pop in unexpectedly, they will come upon only the most decorous behavior.”
“Agreed.” He crossed the room to her. “We have an urgent matter to discuss.” He paused to stare at her, though, his eyes lit with appreciation. “You look beautiful.”
“You mean my gown? This old thing?” She primped a little and readjusted her shawl about her shoulders. “You are only seeing it from the waist up.”
“From what I see, you look like a princess.”
She wasn’t accustomed to receiving compliments like that from a man. It filled her with delight. “And you look like a prince, Dr. Scott.”
“I wouldn’t want to stand out as the ruffian in this crowd.” He cast his glance about the room. “You said you share this office with your sister?”
“Yes. Years ago, it belonged to Mr. Hillman. When Athena and I moved the Darkmoor Bridge School for Girls here, Mrs. Hillman encouraged us to redecorate this room according to our taste.”
The walls were still paneled in dark wood and lined with bookshelves, but they had installed two smaller desks for each of them instead of one large one, along with a bureau for storing school supplies and comfortable chairs for visiting guests and students.
They had changed the color scheme and artwork as well.
Pale-blue curtains framed the windows. The paintings of hunting scenes had been replaced by pictures of gardens and flowers along with portraits of Selena’s mother and father in their prime.
In the spirit of the season, festive branches of holly intertwined with evergreens decorated the mantel.
“It’s very nice,” Dr. Scott said with a nod. “Where is your sister spending the holidays?”
“In Cornwall.” She explained the family’s plans.
“Ah.” He looked at her. “But you chose to remain here at Darkmoor Park? Why?”
“To help Mrs. Hillman host her holiday party,” she replied simply.
“That was a kind thing to do.”
“Mrs. Hillman has been very good to me.” Selena, wishing to learn more about him, asked, “Do you have brothers and sisters, Dr. Scott?”
“I had a younger brother. He passed away when we were very small.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry. What about your parents?”
“They also died when I was a child.”
Selena’s heart went out to him. “How sad that you lost your family at such a young age.” It helped explain why he had been traveling up to Scotland to see friends for Christmas—he had no family with whom to share the holidays. “Who raised you?”
“I spent my formative years in an orphanage. But—I see from your expression that you are starting to feel sorry for me now, Miss Taylor. Don’t. I’ve been on my own for so long that I am quite accustomed to it.”
Selena’s cheeks warmed and she brought a hand to her face, embarrassed that it had given her thoughts away. “Still, I feel bad that—”
He cut her off with a silencing hand. “Enough on that subject.”
Selena frowned. She was full of questions.
It must not have been easy, growing up in an orphanage.
Where had he been educated? And how had he become a doctor?
That must have been a difficult road to follow.
But he evidently didn’t want to talk about it.
And she reminded herself they had more important things to discuss.
Dr. Scott was one step ahead of her. “The clock is ticking,” he said, his tone turning deadly serious. From his coat pocket, he withdrew the threatening note he’d received and slapped it on Selena’s desk. “Someone just threatened to kill us both.”
“Yes.” A spike of fear jabbed Selena in the stomach at this stark reminder of their predicament.
Dr. Scott sat down in the chair facing Selena’s desk. “I’m guessing that whoever wrote these notes is after the five thousand pounds that Jack Clarke hid, and they know we’re looking for it.”
“Do you think they murdered him?” Selena asked.
“I can’t prove it—but yes, I do. I think his killer confronted him, determined to find out where he’d hidden the cash.”
“But apparently, he didn’t tell them. Wouldn’t it be idiotic to kill the only man who knew where the money was?” Selena asked.
“It would. Unless—”
Selena gasped, the answer coming to her before the doctor could provide it. “Oh! I see. Mr. Clarke lied about where he’d put it!”
“That’s my thinking. Maybe they came at him with a weapon of some kind, threatening to kill him unless he told them.”
“Or they might have appealed to his ego and tried to manipulate him into willingly sharing the information,” Selena posited.
The doctor nodded. “Either way, once the killer believed they’d gotten the information they needed, they pushed Mr. Clarke down those stairs.”
“After he was dead, they discovered that he’d lied, but by then, they were out of luck.”
“They knew the money existed but had no clue where he’d stashed it,” Dr. Scott said.
“And now, his killer wants that money and wants us out of their way.”
“Exactly.”
Selena’s hand went to her cheek. “Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s the question of the hour.”
Her mouth went dry. “If this was truly murder, we ought to summon the parish constable.”
Dr. Scott met her gaze across the desk. “How do you propose we do that in the middle of a snowstorm? By the way, who is your constable?”
“Our vicar, Mr. Johnson.”
“Ah.” Dr. Scott frowned. “When I called at the vicarage yesterday morning and ran into your hall boy, the housekeeper informed me that Mr. Johnson was away for the holidays and not expected back until the twenty-ninth of December.”
“Oh.” That was four days away.
Dr. Scott ran a hand distractedly through his wavy, brown hair. “I don’t think it wise to wait that long. Our lives have been threatened. I need to look into this myself.”
“Yourself?” Selena stared at him. “I thought we were in this together.”
“When we were talking about looking for the money, yes.” He glanced grimly at the note on the desktop. “But this could prove to be a treacherous business. We’ve both been warned. And the perpetrator is not likely to hesitate to kill again.”
Selena paused. She had been reading Gothic novels about murder and mayhem for years.
But solving a real-life murder was not for the squeamish.
Her sisters had both nearly died while investigating such crimes.
Selena had come close to losing her own life two years ago while helping to uncover a frightening truth at Thorndale Manor.
This was the first time, though, that a murder mystery had fallen directly into Selena’s lap.
Did she dare to open that door?
Of course she did. Although a tremor of fear raced through her, Selena couldn’t deny that she was excited as well. This wasn’t just a treasure hunt any longer. She and Dr. Scott were going to work together to investigate a murder as well.
She had always wanted to investigate a murder.
Selena steeled herself. “I understand. But I am fully invested in this, Dr. Scott. There is too much at stake. Mr. Clarke may have been murdered under this very roof. We can’t let his killer make off with that five thousand pounds.
We need to learn who killed Mr. Clarke and find that money before they do, return it to the London General Hospital fund, and make them accountable for their crime.
And I refuse to sit back while you do all the work. ”
Dr. Scott blew out a long breath. “Very well, then. But we must proceed with caution. We don’t want to disturb Mrs. Hillman or any of the guests. If they suspect a murder has taken place, panic could set in.”
Selena gave him a firm nod. “I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Except to share whatever we learn with Mr. Johnson when he returns.”
“Of course.”
Selena paused to reflect. “Since the morning that Mr. Clarke’s body was found, it hasn’t stopped snowing. No one else has come or gone from Darkmoor Park. Which means …”
“Whoever did this is still here,” he finished for her.
A shiver raced up Selena’s spine. “But who? I find it hard to believe that anyone in our party is capable of murder—even for a sum as tempting as five thousand pounds.”
A dark, distant look came into Dr. Scott’s eyes. “You’d be surprised by what people—even the nicest, most upright-seeming people in the world—can be capable of,” he declared flatly.
Selena sensed that he was speaking from personal experience and wondered at it. But she didn’t want to pry. “Where should we start?”
Dr. Scott blinked twice. “Let’s start with the threatening notes.” He gestured to the one he had received, which lay atop the desk. “Does the paper look familiar?”
Selena picked up the note and studied it. The paper was of good quality. She held it up to the light and took a sharp breath. “I recognize the watermark. It’s the same as the one on the notepaper I put in the desk in the library for guests to use.”
“Which means that anyone in this house would have had access to it.” Dr. Scott frowned.
“And literally anyone could have written those notes.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Except you and me of course.”