Chapter Four
“Stop, don’t! He’ll…” Devlin called to her.
But it was too late. The gentle lady had already begun to give Grim a thorough ear scratch while simultaneously cooing and praising him for his handsomeness and loyalty to his master.
Devlin could not believe his eyes. The beast of a dog sat at Lady Rosalind’s feet and leaned his massive head into her hand.
After a moment, Grim lay down, and Rosalind continued the scratching, except this time on his exposed belly.
Alden moved closer to Devlin, and he dropped his bow and sheathed his sword. “Your warrior dog…he’s ruined now,” Alden stated with some degree of annoyance. “That perfectly honed weapon of death has turned soft in only a moment with the touch of a woman.”
Devlin was speechless. Did Grim enjoy this affection? Could he be trusted to be gentle with the lady, or would he snap without warning or provocation? Then Luella and Kaylyn approached the dog.
Grim had never been in the company of children. Devlin sprinted toward the girls.
But he was too late. Luella and Kaylyn had dropped to their knees, and now Grim had four smaller hands rubbing his belly, and all three of the females in the room were telling him what a good boy he was and how he was strong and brave.
What witchcraft is this?
No one but he and Alden were able to touch Grim. And when they did, it was never with affection.
“What…are…” Devlin sputtered. “What are you doing to my dog? He’s dangerous…please be careful…stop!” Devlin yelled the last word of his plea.
“Sir Devlin, what are you going on about? Your hound obviously enjoys the attention from the girls and me to your heavy-handed care. We are just fine,” Rosalind said.
“Now, if you have anything to discuss, I suggest we sit for our midday meal, and we can engage in conversation there if you so please.”
Devlin felt as if the tables had turned in the space of just one morning.
Last night he had gone to bed thinking that the cook was weak and could hardly walk, the lady of the manor was timid and meek, the old manservant was feeble and slow-witted, the young girls were frightened little mice, and the kitchen boy was unintelligent.
But now he looked around the room and saw that the cook was ready to take on a ferocious dog with a frying pan, the lady of the manor and the children were fearless, and the manservant and the kitchen boy were quite clever and possibly hiding a serious misdeed or even worse-a murder.
Devlin sat down in the chair closest to him. “Ridley!” he bellowed. “Bring me some ale.”
Ridley ran to the kitchen with Marta following right on his heels.
Bum leg, my arse!
Benton, who had arrived late to the scene, looked at Rosalind, the girls, and the dog, shook his head, and announced to the room, “I will return with the meal. my lady, Kaylyn and Luella, you may want to wash a bit after your enthusiastic attention to the killer hellhound.”
Devlin rolled his eyes. The children and Lady Rosalind rose and strolled toward the kitchen.
“And you, Grim,” Benton said with authority. “You may rest here in the hall as long as you present yourself with impeccable manners during your stay.”
Grim’s ears perked up, and he looked at the servant with his head tilted to the side.
Then Benton tottered over to the large wooden chest that sat left of the fireplace.
He opened the lid and took out a large woolen blanket.
He unfolded the blanket halfway and laid it in front of the fire.
Grim stood until his bed was ready. Then he dropped clumsily to the pallet, his head resting between his paws.
Devlin’s head ached.
The girls returned with their non-stop chatter. Ridley followed with a tray of food and Marta was behind him with mugs of ale.
Lady Rosalind sat at the head of the table, and the girls assisted Benton in ladling the stew into the trenchers.
The girls weren’t much help for old Benton, more stew was spilled than made it into the bowls, but Devlin had to admit that the food smelled delicious.
Marta added two round loaves of rich brown bread to the table and then called Ridley and the girls.
“Come, children, I have your bowls in the kitchen.”
The children left amicably, and the room was suddenly silent. Alden dove into his meal with enthusiasm, and with each bite placed in his mouth, he emitted a content sigh.
“Will you stop doing that?” Devlin scolded.
Lady Rosalind came to his defense. “Nothing wrong with showing your appreciation for a warm meal on a cold day, is there, Mr. Danby?”
“I agree wholeheartedly, but he can keep his groanings to himself.” Devlin snapped back.
Alden gave Lady Rosalind a quick wink, and the action was not unnoticed by Devlin.
“So, Mr. Danby, did your questioning of the tenant farmers and villagers provide any insights into our mystery?” Lady Rosalind asked curiously.
“We were able to find out that Lord Edmond’s horse was returned here to the manor the morning after he disappeared. A farmer by the name of Henry woke to find the animal eating hay with his goats early that morning.”
Rosalind’s face paled.
Alden continued, “Henry secured the horse, then saddled his own nag and looked for Edmond. He figured the Lord had been thrown from the horse and was lying injured somewhere. But his search yielded nothing.”
Devlin turned to Rosalind. “Did you know Capell’s horse had been found?”
Rosalind swallowed, “Yes. Yes…of course, I did.” With a barely noticeable tremble in her voice, she said, “And we sent out our own search parties immediately after we discovered the horse was found riderless.” Her hand shook slightly as she made a feeble attempt at eating her meal, and her gaze was fixed on the trencher in front of her.
“And you searched the lands around the manor thoroughly?” Devlin asked.
“Yes, we did. As best as a ninety-year-old servant and I could. We didn’t get much help from the village, either.”
Devlin thought her point was a good one. A lady and ancient Benton could not search the surrounding farmland thoroughly. And seeing that Lord Capell wasn’t well-liked, he didn’t doubt that the villagers were less than enthusiastic about helping.
“So, where do you go from here?” Rosalind asked.
“I still need to interview Benton and Marta. I plan on doing that now,” Devlin replied.
Rosalind nodded and then stood. “I have to start the children’s lessons. Please excuse me,” she said curtly as she gathered her mug and trencher.
The men waited until she left the room, and Alden shook his head, “I do not think our lady is telling us all she knows.”
Devlin looked down the hall. “I agree, Alden. I agree.”
After completing their meal, mostly in silence, Benton appeared with Ridley tagging along. The man and boy cleared the table.
“I’d like to speak to you, Benton. Right away,” Devlin said, using a tone that left no question that he would tolerate anything other than immediate compliance.
“Certainly, sir,” Benton replied. “Let me return the tray to the kitchen, and I will return post haste.”
Each step was painfully slow. But Devlin also noticed the loving respect Ridley showed Benton. He carried the water pitchers so that Benton’s tray was not overly heavy. And he didn’t run ahead. He walked with Benton and never seemed to mind his snail’s pace.
“You’ve got time for a lie-down before he gets back,” Alden jested.
Not in the mood for jokes, Devlin’s scowl was fierce, but he did not offer to comment.
“Grim will make room for you by the fire.”
A frustrated grunt escaped from Devlin, but he was now alone in the great hall.
His mind worked to deduce who was the most likely suspect in Lord Capell’s demise.
Yes, the discovery of his horse, saddled and no rider, led him to conclude that the lord had most likely died.
But was it foul play or an accident? Even if he were thrown from his horse, he would have died from the elements by now, and wild animals would have taken his remains.
However, considering that Henry had made a search and another by her ladyship and her servant, he was more inclined to believe foul play was involved.
And if there was a crime, it was not committed by common thieves.
Ruffians would have taken the fine saddle, bridle, and the horse itself.
Devlin heard the soft shuffle of feet and looked up to see Benton entering the room.
“Send Ridley to the stables if he is free from duties this afternoon,” Alden said as he stood to leave. “I have some repairs to my saddle that I need done. The boy can help.”
Devlin nodded, and Alden left the room. Benton made his way to the table. He motioned for the butler to sit, and the old man sat gingerly in the chair across from Devlin.
For a moment, the two men looked at each other. The only sounds heard in the room were the occasional crackle of the fire and Grim’s soft snores.
“Benton,” Devlin finally began. “Were you witness to the tense exchange that occurred between Lord Capell and Lady Rosalind the last night he was seen?”
“Yes, sir. I was in the dining room when the altercation began,” he replied.
“And what did you believe your Lord was angry about?”
“Oh, he was enraged about what he was usually angry about, Sir Devlin. He was furious about the state of his finances, or lack thereof, I should say.”
“Didn’t Capell bring in enough money from the rents of his lands?”
“Lord Edmond collected the rents each year, as he should have. He also received funds from Lady Rosalind’s estate. But he was not wise in managing his funds.”
Benton’s face flushed with emotion. Devlin could not tell if it was from anger or maybe it was sadness.
Benton continued, “This lord squandered every shilling he had on drink and whoring. And what he had left, he gambled away. I served his father, and my father served this family two generations before that. The Capell name was respected once. But no more!”