Chapter 7 #2
Nicholas contributed his thoughts in the same sour tone as before.
“And I can confirm from reading these … toxic ramblings … that my mother was obsessed with Simon rising to the rank of baron while I … I was a mere tool to ensure his perpetual guilt. She seemed pleased in the aftermath of my accident that Simon blamed himself, using it to her advantage to persuade him into doing his duty. You, Marco, and Angelo are the three people who stand in the way of any plot she may have enacted before she died.”
John sighed heavily, slumping back in his swivel chair to think. “And what do the journals reveal? Do we have a list of potential suspects?”
“I do not have a definitive answer. One name that came up was Dr. White.”
Molly glanced around the room before adding to what Nicholas had said.
“Dr. White is the family physician. He supplied Lady Blackwood with laudanum, which was how she … ended her life. He disappeared the day we discovered John was being poisoned. We thought it was probably to avoid trouble for failing to notice the signs of arsenic poisoning, but perhaps it was because he had willfully ignored the symptoms to assist the baroness.”
Angelo cocked his head to consider this information with a studious expression before finally responding. “How would Dr. White access the carriage or the roof of this house? To do so, he would need a servant to allow him entry.”
“Which means we should still be looking for someone within this household,” agreed Marco.
“If I may suggest someone else?” Molly was nervous, her tongue passing briefly over her lips as if reluctant to proffer a suspect.
The urge to lean forward and offer quiet encouragement was unexpected, and Marco deliberately settled back into the padding of his chair, unwilling to invite further impropriety.
“Who?” queried the baron, his interest obvious.
Molly’s eyes flickered toward the figure beyond the window. “Miss Dubois. Her affinity for Lady Blackwood borders on fanaticism. She mentions her dozens of times a day, and she is quite put out to be my companion instead of servicing a ‘booteeful baronezz.’”
Marco almost laughed out loud. Molly’s impression of her fawning companion was comical, despite the gravity of their discussion.
“Interesting. What would her motive be?” Uncle John mused.
“According to these”—Nicholas waved at the stack of journals—“Lady Blackwood paid a footman in the Ridley household to gather information after she killed Lord Filminster. Perhaps she has made arrangements to pay Miss Dubois for completing her crusade.” Nicholas pulled a face.
“I had to read all about it. There is not much about Miss Dubois in the journals, but I can confirm that my mother had a liking for the maid, so she might have had a strong-enough relationship to corrupt Miss Dubois into perpetuating her crimes.”
The baron nodded. “Then we should observe Miss Dubois. Perhaps someone should search her room for any evidence? Molly could keep her occupied.”
The baron’s outrageous suggestion, so easily offered, had Marco and his brother exchange looks of surprise. This household had been under attack, which explained the equanimity with which its residents conspired to investigate, even as Molly hissed in rejection, clearly alarmed at the thought.
“And what if she is innocent? That would be a terrible invasion of privacy for a man to go through her things. No … I should do it if we are to be so sly.”
It was a thoughtful gesture, Marco thought, considering he suspected Molly did not like her companion in the least. Her proposal of Miss Dubois as a potential murderess confirmed her dislike of the servant, yet she still took pains to extend what fairness she could manage.
“If you remain in your room to read, Miss Dubois could be called away. Perhaps I could interview her over her change in roles and deliver some directions about how I want Molly to be serviced? I should be able to prolong the discussion for an hour if I choose to ramble, as old men are wont to do.”
Molly nodded at the baron’s suggestion. “That would work.”
“So we have Dr. White and Miss Dubois on the list, but cannot see how White could do it without help from inside the house. Any other suspects, Nicholas?”
He shook his head, and a darker thought intruded upon Marco’s mind. It was difficult to shake the notion that Nicholas himself had a motive to assist his mother, and the moment felt ill-chosen even as he gave voice to it.
“What of Nicholas himself? How can we know he does not wish to clear a path to inheriting? Should someone else read the journals when he has much to gain if we are all killed?”
Angelo’s face fell with alarm, and Marco realized he had overstepped.
Perhaps raising the subject was circumspect, but his lack of sleep, coupled with the pressure of knowing himself marked for death, had sharpened his tongue beyond good judgment.
Even Molly had reached out a hand in instinctive reassurance toward Nicholas, who had straightened to glare at Marco in anger.
“I did not help my mother to kill a peer of the realm to cover up your existence, and I did not poison my own brother!” He jerked a hand toward John, bristling with outrage as he responded in an angry but low voice, carefully restrained for fear of being overheard, which reminded everyone present of Miss Dubois, all eyes shifting to the window to ensure the companion could not overhear their conversation before Nicholas returned his heated gaze to Marco.
“I certainly did not assist her to overdose my own father. Nor did I assist her to poison Simon’s bride! ”
Marco raised his hands in appeasement. “I apologize for how I stated my question, but as someone who is unfamiliar … You have a close relationship with her, and you would benefit if we all died. How can we know you are not a suspect?”
Nicholas rose from his chair, awkward because of the limp, as he straightened to his full height.
“Because she was a homicidal lunatic who had no time for her damaged son! Anyone here can confirm that we did not, in fact, share a close relationship. My mother was a vain woman who liked her shallow and pretty pursuits.” Gesturing down at his leg, Nicholas continued.
“With an injury like this, do you think she considered me worthy of her attentions? But feel free to read her journals if you wish to know what she thought of her … spare … son.”
The hurt that emanated from the younger man could not be feigned, and Marco slowly comprehended the quiet brutality of the task Nicholas had undertaken.
To discover firsthand what she thought of each of her family, including Nicholas himself, while reading about the crimes she had committed and her warped reasons for doing so.
“My deepest apologies, my friend. I had not considered how uncomfortable it must be, and I meant no disrespect.”
Molly reached out a hand with gentle insistence as they stared at each other, the tension palpable, to clasp Nicholas’s. “Please, Nicholas, calm yourself and take a seat.”
Heaving a shuddering sigh, the other man settled back into his seat, his face wreathed in pain.
Molly turned to Marco. “Your question is understandable under the circumstances, but as someone who witnessed the baroness interact with Nicholas, I can confirm that her disdain for him was marked. I cannot recollect a single instance when Lady Blackwood directed any conversation in his direction. And Simon would not have left the journals with Nicholas if he had even one thought that Nicholas could be involved. We may have been na?ve about the evils a person is capable of before recent events unfolded, but I can assure you that we now possess a far keener awareness.”
Reluctantly, Marco’s esteem for the young woman grew.
She had inserted herself to bring peace with sincerity and eloquence, and he could not help admiring how she faced the pressures of life as well as any man he knew.
Molly was not only comely, but she also possessed a spine of steel that commanded respect.
Her future husband would be a fortunate man to have such a strong partner by his side.
And, just for an instant, an unwelcome thought intruded. He pictured that husband as himself.
“I second Molly’s observations. After his accident, Lady Blackwood had little time for her younger son,” the baron interjected.
“I could not and would not consider my brother as a suspect. It is much more likely someone has been paid to pursue her goals than that Nicholas would assist in such abhorrent activities.”
Angelo cleared his throat, offering his thoughts in a bright tone intended to improve the prevailing mood. “I think it is best if we can all remember that we are family. We may have just met, but the bonds of blood can make us strong if we work together.”
Despite the troubles they were currently facing, Angelo’s optimistic declaration made Marco’s lips quirk into a slight smile.
His brother was a good friend to many, and Marco was glad Angelo had joined him on this bizarre trip to England.
“Agreed. Again, my apologies. I did not understand the situation, but now I do.”
“What should I be searching for? Do we have any ideas?” Molly’s attempt to shift the subject was obvious, but welcome.
Nicholas gestured to the journals. “One of these. Each volume has about three years’ worth of entries, and we have a period of three years which is not covered here.
My mother pulled these out as her confession to clear Simon’s name in the aftermath of her suicide, so if she tasked an accomplice to complete her work, it is possible she gave the missing volume to that person. ”
Marco studied the journals with their distinct rich leather, gold tooling, and embossed thistles on the front. “Did you search the house for it?”
Nicholas looked to John for an answer.
“Simon did have a search done, but I cannot speak to how thorough it was. At the time, we were not aware that there was still danger lurking in these halls.”
“Angelo and I will conduct another search. It is something … tangible?”
“Tangible,” replied Molly immediately, and they exchanged smiles. Marco was relieved to see that she did not hold a grudge for his clumsy rejection last evening, which spoke to a steadiness of temperament he admired more than he ought.
“Sì, it is something tangible for us to do to help.”