Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
No one tried to stop me. And when I turned the knob and wrenched the door open, the hallway outside was empty.
There was no way to know who among the residents, guests, or staff had been there, nor where he or she had gone.
I considered knocking on Crispin’s door to see whether he’d respond, although if he didn’t, it wouldn’t prove anything one way or another.
He could be inside his rooms and simply choose not to open the door for me.
So could anyone else, for that matter. And while Crispin’s—and Christopher’s—rooms were the closest, there was also the servants’ staircase at the end of the hall, which was perhaps the likeliest place for the eavesdropper to have gone.
“You were saying?” Francis inquired dryly from behind me, and I shut the door again and turned to him with a grimace.
“Not something that I wanted anyone else to overhear. Just that it’s easier to make something fantastical out of the mad things that have happened in the past six months, than dwelling upon the reality that Aunt Charlotte killed two people before killing herself, and Gilbert killed two people before going on the lam, and Uncle Herbert had an illegitimate son none of us knew about—”
Christopher made a face.
“—and he killed the mother of his child and then himself.” Wilkins, I meant, of course; not Uncle Herbert.
But there was no point in saying that, since the others all knew it, too.
“And my long-lost cousin from Germany tried to murder me several times—and you too, Christopher!—before kidnapping me and putting me on a freighter in the middle of the North Sea. All of that’s very real, and none of it is pleasant.
It’s much more enjoyable to speculate about the ways things didn’t happen. ”
“I suppose that’s true,” Francis admitted. “I’d be much happier if Aunt Charlotte hadn’t turned out to be a murderess and I hadn’t had an older brother no one ever told me about.”
That last was a moot point now, of course, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say so, but that was probably one of those unempathetic statements I should try to avoid making.
“And I’d be much happier if my mother wasn’t dead,” Constance piped up, “and I suppose I would rather have it have been His Grace who killed her, rather than my brother.”
My lips twitched, and so did Christopher’s. “I appreciate that,” I said, “and I’m sorry to have upset you, Constance. It was not my intent to make light of what happened to your mother. I just get carried away thinking about things, you know.”
She smiled. “I’m well aware of that, Pippa. We spent five years together at Godolphin. I’m well aware of how you get carried away with things. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
There was quite a bit to apologize for, and it was nice of her to forgive my transgression so easily. I said so.
“You’re quite welcome,” Constance said. “Besides, I’m not surprised that you’re a bit out of sorts. It must be difficult to be accused of murder. Especially when there’s nothing to prove that you didn’t do it.”
I turned towards Christopher—he could prove that I didn’t do it—and Constance added, “Except Christopher, of course. But everyone knows that he’d lie for you.”
Well, yes. He would. But—
“Surely you don’t think that I killed anyone, Constance?”
“Of course not,” Constance said. “But it still can’t be comfortable to have everyone’s suspicions cling to you like this. It’s no wonder if you’re tetchy.”
“I’m not—” I bit back the rest of the denial, since I was only proving her point. “Well played, Constance.”
She smirked at me, and I added, “And yes, I suppose I’m a bit upset. Not so much because I’m afraid that I’ll be arrested. I had no motive, and moreover, Christopher and I really were together when Doctor Meadows was killed. He was alive and well when we left the village.”
“Or at least when we left the infirmary,” Christopher supplied. “Who knows what happened once we walked out?”
“I know what happened,” I said. “Someone else walked in and killed him.”
Nobody said anything, and I added, “But as I was saying, yes, it is a bit upsetting that someone has gone out of their way to accuse me of murder. Someone obviously dislikes me quite a bit to be willing to do that.”
“Unless you were just handy,” Christopher said.
“If so, you were just as handy.”
He nodded. “But I’m the Duke of Sutherland’s nephew. You’re the poor relation. It’s a lot less risky to accuse you.”
I gave him a look. “Thanks ever so, Christopher.”
“In that case,” Constance said, “all we have to do is figure out who dislikes you enough to want to frame you for murder.”
Her fiancé snorted. “In this household? It could be practically anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. “And thanks ever so to you too, Francis.”
He sniggered. “Present company excepted, of course. But there’s the fair Laetitia, her parents—or at least her mother; I suppose her father isn’t so bad—”
“Uncle Maury is quite nice, really,” Constance agreed. “Certainly too nice to frame anyone for murder.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Geoffrey, either,” Christopher added. “You did have a hand in his spending two months in jail, Pippa.”
I nodded. I had already considered this, and yes, small wonder if Geoffrey wanted a bit of his own back. “Does either of you have any idea what Geoffrey was doing between breakfast and lunch? Would he have been able to get to the village and back?”
“We saw Francis’s parents off,” Constance said, “and then we went upstairs to pack our own belongings so we could leave once the two of you came back. I didn’t see anyone else during that time.”
“Francis?”
He shook his head. “Uncle Harold went to his study after breakfast. I have no idea how much time he spent there. It might have been the entire morning. Laetitia and Crispin started out in the hedge maze, although I can’t imagine that that would have been comfortable for too long.
I didn’t see the earl and countess until luncheon, nor Lord Geoffrey. ”
“Perhaps we should inquire of the maids,” I suggested, and Christopher made a sound that was half snort, half giggle.
“Surely he must have learned something from what happened in September, don’t you imagine?”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” I said. “He got away with it. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t do it again.
” Especially as I suspected that Geoffrey’s womanizing ways were more of a compulsion than something he actively chose to do, not something he could simply stop.
“Although I expect he might be a bit more careful in future about who he gets in the family way. If it’s a maid, that’s one thing.
He can pay them off. If it’s a highly born young lady who expects marriage, that’s something else entirely. ”
“At any rate,” Christopher said, “it sounds like no one knows where Geoffrey was between breakfast and luncheon. He might have been in the village framing Pippa for murder.”
“Would he kill Doctor Meadows simply so that I’d be arrested for it, though? That seems excessive.” I glanced at Constance, who might reasonably be expected to know Geoffrey better than the rest of us.
“It would be excessive,” she agreed, “although I’m not certain Geoffrey always thinks things through, you know?”
“Or he might have had his own reasons for wanting Doctor Meadows dead,” Francis supplied. “Say, for instance, that Geoffrey misbehaved with one of the local girls. He has visited Little Sutherland before. He might have gone home with someone after a pint at the pub.”
He might very well have done. It sounded quite like something he would do.
“And she might have found herself in the family way,” Francis continued. “And he might have petitioned Doctor Meadows to do something about it. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk it again himself, I imagine.”
“And when Doctor Meadows refused, he killed him?”
Francis shrugged, and I admitted, grudgingly, “I suppose it isn’t any worse than any other scenario we’ve come up with.”
“Rather better than some,” Francis said, “if I do say so myself.”
“It would help if we knew what he was doing between breakfast and luncheon. If he has an alibi, it can’t be him.”
“It would help if we knew what everyone was doing,” Christopher said. He turned towards the door. “I think I’ll go inquire.”
“Of whom?”
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Anyone who’ll talk to me. Will you come?”
“I suppose I might as well.” I trotted after him towards the door. Francis and Constance didn’t move from the bed, and I added, “Not coming along?”
“We’ll stay here for a bit,” Constance said demurely.
I nodded. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Doesn’t leave us with much,” Francis informed me. “Best of luck finding someone to take your place before you’re arrested, Pipsqueak.”
“Tom’s here,” I said. “I’m not worried.”
And then I was outside in the hallway, and could close the door behind me. Christopher stood on the other side of the corridor, in front of Crispin’s sitting room door, and once I had shut Constance’s door behind me, he applied his knuckles to it.
There was no answer from within, and he did it again. “Crispin? It’s me, Kit.”
But Crispin was either not inside, or not answering the call, and after a moment, Christopher turned to me. “Must have been someone else.”
“Or he simply doesn’t want to speak to us.” I looked around. “Whoever was out here must have gone into his room, or yours, or through the stairwell door. There aren’t any other doors near enough.”
“You don’t suppose Laetitia or Geoffrey might have made it to their mother’s door if they ran?”
I eyed it. “I suppose it’s possible. Although I’m not knocking on that.”
Christopher shook his head. “Nor I. We can check my room, I suppose, although I don’t know how likely it is that anyone would duck in there.”