Chapter 18 #2
“I have to speak with Cook about tea,” Portia announced. “That seed cake she served yesterday was appalling, and if she sends up wine biscuits one more time…of course she is very sensitive. She might just as well throw a cleaver at my head as give me a ginger biscuit.”
She rose and looped her arm through Alessandro’s, pulling him to his feet. “I know. I shall bring her this delicious young man as a peace offering.”
Alessandro seemed to struggle to find the proper words. “My lady, I would be very happy to accompany you, but Lady Julia’s pearls. Perhaps we ought to search for them.”
Portia smiled at him fondly. “Yes, and as soon as I have spoken to Cook, we will poke around belowstairs and see if we can find them. Perhaps Morag forgot what she was about and left them in the pantry.”
Alessandro threw me a pleading glance, but I pretended not to see it.
As much as I enjoyed his company, and as much as he deserved to be rescued from my sister, I was acutely aware of his intentions after his declaration of the previous night.
I had no wish to be alone with him until I had formed an answer to his question.
At present, I could give him none. The investigation, with all its winding paths and blind alleys, demanded my full attention.
Finally, only Plum, Brisbane, and I remained in the dining room. I excused myself, dragging Plum into the transept while Brisbane savoured his coffee. I glanced around to make quite certain we were alone.
“What is it, Julia?” Plum asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“It is Alessandro. You’ve been frightfully negligent hosts, you and Ly both. You must do something with him this afternoon.”
“Like what? In case you have failed to notice, the Abbey is inescapable.”
“Not for Aunt Dorcas,” I muttered.
He rolled his eyes. “Aunt Dorcas is famous for disappearing when there is trouble because usually she is the cause of it.”
I poked his chest as hard as I could, pressing hard on one of the tourmaline buttons of his waistcoat. “I hardly think she is responsible for the murder of Mr. Snow.”
“Ouch. I meant the theft of your pearls. She’s a terrible old cat about pearls, you must know that.”
“Father did say something to that effect,” I admitted. “But how did she leave the Abbey? And where is she now?”
Plum shrugged. “She might have gone to the village to call upon Uncle Fly. She might have taken the train to London. She might have gone home for all we know.”
I blinked at him. “I had not considered that. I suppose she might have left before the snow was too thick to travel. But how?”
“Julia, Father said not to worry. He has had word she is all right. She is probably sitting at the Home Farm, warming herself by the fire and driving Benedick to madness.”
I remembered then what Portia had said about Benedick braving the snow to come up to the Abbey and shout news to Father.
“Of course. I am just being silly. I’m sure she is perfectly fine. But about Alessandro—”
He groaned and raised his hands. “Very well. I promise to entertain him properly. But not now. Charlotte is waiting.”
A warning trembled on my tongue, but I swallowed it. Plum was a man fully grown. He would not thank me for interfering in his affaires du coeur.
“Thank you, dearest. Mind you include Ly. He is looking frightfully peaky.”
Plum rolled his eyes again and left me, and I was glad of it.
He had been in a frightfully bad temper for months, and his mood seemed to have darkened since we returned home.
I trailed slowly back into the dining room and joined Brisbane at the table.
I picked up my cup and put it down again. I had no appetite for cold coffee.
“What did you discover from Lucy?” he asked finally.
I pulled a face. “Nothing. She claims she has no memory whatsoever from the time she left the drawing room, until we found her, standing over Snow’s body, clutching the candelabrum.
” A sudden thought occurred to me. Brisbane had a working knowledge of mesmerism.
“Perhaps Lucy had been influenced by someone who knew how to wield the prodigious powers of the mind. Is that possible?”
Brisbane ran a hand over his temple. “Possible, but entirely too convenient for my taste.”
“Agreed,” I said briskly. “So the question is, whom is she protecting? Sir Cedric is the obvious choice.”
“Actually, Emma is the obvious choice,” Brisbane countered.
“Yes,” I said impatiently, “but we have already established, that is, you have already established, this murder was done by a man.”
“True enough,” he said, far more amiably than I expected.
“So Sir Cedric is our most obvious candidate for murderer,” I finished. “We must search his rooms.”
“I will search his rooms,” he corrected. “It would be highly inappropriate for you to do so.”
I felt a little thrill of pleasure at this demonstration of his regard for me. “You mean because a lady should not be present in an unmarried gentleman’s bedchamber,” I teased, thinking of the many trips I had made to his own chamber the previous night.
“No,” he said slowly, his eyes warm with amusement. “I mean it must be done properly and by a professional. You, my lady, are still an amateur.”
He was still laughing when I left him.