Chapter Fourteen #2
AS DARKNESS BEGAN TO fall, Edward’s attacker trained a spy glass on the drawing room of Temper House. From the rise, the interior of the room was quite clear. Several people had gathered there, drinking sherry before dinner, including old Lady Temperley in her ancient shawls and exquisite lace cap.
The Temperleys had tried to hide her presence—unnatural fools—but mere tenants appeared to have more decent feeling, adopting her into their party although she was old and grumpy and they were mostly young with their own lives and interests.
Well, they need never know of the real tragedy.
They would never be able to tell that Edward had not simply had a relapse and died. Only then would his killer be safe.
A few minutes more. Just a few minutes more.
It did not take long to hurry through the gathering shadows to the back of the house and the kitchen door, which was always unlocked until dinner had been cleared away.
This was when the kitchen was at its most chaotic, with Mrs. Riley dementedly cooking and arranging and ignoring everything and everyone else.
The servants ran in and out, fetching and carrying and receiving, but there would be just the right moment.
It was just a matter of waiting and acting swiftly.
More swiftly than expected, a line of servants marched out laden with trays and serving dishes, leaving only Mrs. Riley, fleeing to the stove, her back to the door, the window, and most of the way to the housekeeper’s room.
It was the work of mere moments. No one remonstrated or exclaimed in surprise. The only sounds were the scrape of the cook’s spoon on the pot bottom and the crashing of the oven door as she opened it one handed and reached for the oven gloves.
The sitting room was attained with no more trouble than a fast-beating heart. Only a few steps to the inner door, which pushed open silently.
The housekeeper’s bedchamber was not large. A bed, a night table, a small dressing table and matching wardrobe. No nurse, no visitor, just the patient himself.
Oh God, why did he have to wake at all? Stupid, weakening thought that had to be overcome. In the pale glow of a single low lamp, Edward lay asleep, the covers pulled up so that he was barely visible. All that could be seen was the bandage around his head.
That made it easier. Who could bring themselves to kill while looking into a man’s eyes? Besides which, wrestling with him would have risked noise. Though Edward could still wake...
It had to be quick and firm. There could be no hesitating, or everything would collapse.
Why then, did it feel so much more wrong than lashing out on a dark, silent night with only Edward’s laughter ringing in the air?
But it had to be done. This sense of falling into a self-made pit of despair must be overthrown.
And so, in one oft-practiced, smooth action, the pillow was snatched from beneath Edward’s head and crushed over his face.
Or at least, that was what was meant to happen.
But Edward shifted with stunning speed for a sleeping man.
The pillow barely had time to touch him before he battered it aside and dived out from under the covers, half-kneeling on the bed, his bandage wildly askew.
For an instant, almost like some bizarre painting, they stared at each other.
Until, breaking the spell, the wardrobe door opened and Lady Petteril stepped out.
It was a nightmare. And yet horribly real.
“Good evening, Constable Barley,” said Lord Petteril, removing his bandage and gently taking the pillow from his would-be-killer’s nerveless hands.
***
HIDING IN THE WARDROBE had been April’s own idea. In fact, it was the only way she would countenance Piers substituting himself for Edward as the bait. Even though Stewart lurked just behind the baize door to the kitchen.
Neither she nor Stewart appeared to be necessary. Abraham Barley looked completely non-plussed and about as dangerous as a cabbage. Piers dropped the pillow back onto the bed.
Barley looked dizzy. Surely even relieved behind the agony of despair in his expression.
“How did you know?” Barley asked hoarsely.
Mrs. Riley appeared in the doorway, glaring as usual, a large meat cleaver in her hand. April nodded to her, curiously warmed by her protection. The woman nodded back curtly, turned, and went out again.
Stewart replaced her in the doorway at once, although Barley seemed to be no threat now.
“I didn’t for certain,” Piers said. “But we’d ruled out just about every other possibility.
You are an older man, which had become one of our criteria; you kept an eye on this house even before the attack on Edward; and though everyone told us how thorough you are, your investigation into the attack was anything but.
Then Stewart here had an enlightening chat with your neighbours—it seems you’re given to walking in this direction at all hours of the day and night—while he helped spread the word of Edward’s wakening. ”
Barley stared at him, frustration and something very like hope warring in his eyes. “Then Edward isn’t really awake at all? Is he alive?”
“Oh, yes, both alive and awake,” Piers said. “In fact, he’s very uncomfortably sitting in the drawing room with Lady Temperley’s shawl around his shoulders and her lace cap on his head.”
Barley’s jaw dropped. “Why?” he asked blankly.
“Well, he had to go somewhere, and I had no objection to making him a little uncomfortable considering the trouble he’s caused. And if you did look in the window, we wanted some kind of host for the gathering so you wouldn’t really notice that both my wife and I were missing.”
“I’m glad it’s over,” Barley said. “Apart from the shame. It’s been a nightmare, and I couldn’t seem to wake up. I suppose I’ll hang. Me, a constable sworn to keep the king’s peace.”
“Why did you do it?” April asked him.
Barley shook his head. “Madness. A moment of stupid, unforgivable madness.” His whiskers twitched. “Temper, if you like. He laughed at me.”
“Perhaps,” Piers said, “but it was a little more than that, wasn’t it? Obsession.”
The constable’s face reddened. “I’ll say nothing about that. Someone’s coming. You’d best send me to Mr. Alexander. I won’t give any trouble.”
“Sadly, my wife and I are too given to curiosity to leave it there. Ah, Edward, just the man.”
Still pale and bandaged, but minus the shawl and cap that had made April snort with laughter, Edward entered the room with Dr. Fosterson at his elbow and sat down on the bed with obvious relief. He didn’t look at Barley.
Fosterson raised his eyebrows at Piers, while he crouched and removed Edward’s shoes before helping the footman lift his legs onto the bed.
“This is your culprit?” Fosterson said, nodding at Barley. “Or didn’t your little ruse work?”
“It worked,” April said at once. “Barley tried to smother Piers with a pillow.”
Edward closed his eyes, not in sleep but in pain. “Your lordship looks well enough to me. What will you charge him with? Rearranging my bedding?”
“That’s enough insolence from you,” Piers said severely. “We seem to be in a very odd position where neither the victim nor the perpetrator of a crime are prepared to tell us anything at all. So why don’t I tell you what I think happened, and you can each tell me where I’m wrong.”
“There’s no point,” Edward said. “I won’t make any charge against him or anyone else.”
Barley stared at him, a frown of incomprehension on his brow.
Seeing it, April said wryly, “Edward’s a better man than you thought him. And you’re a worse one than he thought you.”
Barley’s gaze fell. “I don’t like the man. I hit him too hard. I must have meant to.”
“And then you had to cover it up,” Piers said.
“You thought you’d killed him. But you’ve dealt with crimes before, so you know not to leave evidence.
You didn’t walk on the path in case you left footprints.
You walked on the rough grass, in the shadows of the wood so that no one glimpsing you from the house would recognize you, as you went up to the summer house.
I don’t know how long you waited there, but on the way back, you encountered Edward, hit him, and took your blood stained weapon with you.
I suppose it’s in the wood somewhere, though there’s nothing to connect it to you. ”
“Then you can’t know it was him,” Edward said, a hint of his old smug bravado appearing.
“No,” Piers admitted.
“But his neighbour saw him leave his cottage at about eleven on Saturday night,” Stewart said from the doorway.
“And he wasn’t in the inn that night,” Piers added. “Hardly conclusive as I would be the first to admit. But now we come to the reason for the attack. The person Edward had arranged to meet in the summer house.”
For the first time, the eyes of victim and perpetrator met, and slid apart almost at once. And yet April could have sworn some kind of communication passed. Neither would talk.
“Stewart, would you ring for Becky?” April said deliberately.
Barley started visibly.
Wordlessly, Stewart stood aside and Becky walked nervously into the room.
“There’s no need, my lady,” she whispered.
“I heard what’s going on. It was me was supposed to meet Edward.
Because me and Peggy knew he’d been stringing us both along.
She had the strength to throw him over. I still wanted to believe I meant something to him, so I let myself be persuaded, just to talk, to hear what he had to say.
Only when I thought about it, I couldn’t make up my mind whether or not to go.
Lady Temperley kept me back for a little, so I had no choice at first. Then I made up my mind to go, just to finish everything with Edward for good.
Only I bumped into your lordship and took fright, and you told me about the accident. ..”
Becky swallowed, and faded into silence, though a frown pulled at her brow and she kept darting uncomprehending glances at Barley.
“Barley kept a close eye on this house,” Piers said. “At first just because of his obsession, and then out of concern for Becky when he heard the gossip about her and Edward. He knew where Edward had trysted with a previous lover on a Saturday night. So he went to protect her.”
“Oh, come, Piers,” Fosterson interrupted with sudden impatience. “The constable decided to take the law into his own hands? Administer a lethal thrashing just because Edward was debauching yet another maiden?”
“And insulted said maiden by lack of faithfulness to her,” Piers said mildly. “Can you not see that Becky was his obsession?”
Barley stood like a statue, his normally ruddy face almost as white as Edward’s. Fosterson looked from the maid to the constable.
“No,” he said frankly.
“That’s the thing,” Piers said. “People are discounted or invisible for all sorts of reasons—too odd, too ill-bred, too old.” His gaze skimmed over the constable to Becky.
“Or they are overshadowed by more popular or more obviously pretty companions. We are all guilty of it from time to time. But Barley saw Becky, valued her. Loved her.”
“I never looked at her,” Barley said hoarsely. He still wasn’t looking at her. “I never touched her. I’m an old fool but I know my limitations. I’d steeled myself to accept that a worthy young man would snap her up...”
“Only Edward did,” April said. “Not worthy and not faithful. Or at least, not till you almost killed him.”
Barley closed his eyes again.
Edward said steadily, “I won’t accuse him.”
Barley opened his eyes, looking right at the man he had assaulted. “I did it from madness. It’s the only motive I’ll confess to.”
“Dash it, Withy, you’ve no proof and no case,” Fosterson said in frustration. “The perpetrator gets off free!”
“Not free,” Piers said vaguely. “Not quite. I think it’s probably time he retired and moved away from here.”
“Go to your sister,” Becky said eagerly. “She lives by the sea now, don’t she? Must be lovely and peaceful there.”
Barley, as dazed by the idea of not being hanged as that it was Becky advising him, shook his head in bewilderment.
“What’s the wretched point, Withy?” Fosterson exploded. “You’ve achieved nothing!”
April frowned at him. “It’s not about winning. It never was. Sometimes, you can just do a little good in the world.”
Fosterson stared at her, an arrested look in his eyes.
He spoke slowly, feeling his way. “A good man who made one admittedly hefty mistake gets a second chance instead of hanging. A man who behaved badly, constantly, has learned about consequences and will do better. It’s a bit like doctoring, isn’t it? ”
“Often down to the gore,” Piers agreed cheerfully. “Shall we go to dinner?”