Chapter 18 #2
Waverly left Reverend Billings behind and ignored the fact that Preston was roaming about Traeger Hall.
He had informed her at breakfast that he was to meet with Mr. Grossman today.
He needed access to certain accounts, and there were some loose ends with the sawmill that required his attention.
Waverly could not shake the trepidation she felt in knowing that in just a few hours, Preston would receive the news that she was to inherit nothing, and he had no part in Uncle Leopold’s will or future business plans.
“Aveline?” She caught the attention of the maid, who was descending the staircase, a duster in hand.
Aveline’s eyes widened and then returned to normal size. “Yes, miss?”
“Would you sit with my uncle and aunt for a bit? We should try to honor their final wishes to the best of our ability, and I have some things that need tending to.”
She also wanted to be sure that Aveline didn’t see where Waverly was going.
Waverly wanted to be alone and unnoticed.
Not only did she want to retrace the night of the slayings but she needed to make certain an important piece of her life was in order.
She had stored it in its place in the bell tower because no one had ever visited it.
Or so she’d thought. Until the night almost three weeks ago when she’d come face-to-face with Uncle Leopold there. Waverly found her anxiety heightening.
She was about to make her leave when a solid knock on the door interrupted her. “Bother,” she mumbled under her breath. If things continued in this manner, the only privacy she would be able to muster would be sitting in the parlor with her dead relatives. That wouldn’t help at all.
Aveline hurried past Waverly and opened the door. “Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Is Miss Pembrooke at home by any chance?”
He hadn’t seen enough of her yesterday?
“I’m right here.” Hiding would solve nothing, not to mention the increase of her heartbeat betrayed her. The sound of Titus’s voice gave her heart a leap of pleasure, which was out of place in such times.
“Ah.” Titus stepped inside, and Aveline closed the door, bobbed a curtsy, then hurried toward the front parlor to sit with Waverly’s uncle and aunt.
Titus swept his hat off his head. “May I?” He motioned to the coat tree by the staircase and, without waiting for Waverly’s approval, made himself at home by placing the hat on one of the hooks.
He busied himself with a cuff link at his wrist, removing it and tossing it into a bone china bowl with a scowl.
“Blasted thing broke.” He removed the matching one and disposed of it likewise.
Waverly waited impatiently.
When Titus turned his attention back to her, she noticed his eyes sweep the length of her, and she regretted that she could only wear mourning black.
She had a lovely pale pink silk that complimented her ivory skin and white-blond tresses.
But no, she must wear black, buttoned to her chin, with black lace and black cording, and the black made her appear as if she, too, were on the way to the grave.
“I had a revelation.” Titus approached her, his eyes earnest.
Waverly glanced up the staircase to make certain Preston wasn’t lurking. “Not here,” she hissed, and Titus gave a quick nod, following her into the sitting room. Though it wasn’t appropriate, Waverly slid the pocket doors shut. “Preston is here, and Aveline is as well.”
“I see.” Titus seemed to choose his words carefully. “I don’t wish to invite more angst, but I thought if we revisited the events of the night of the murders, it might be helpful in our figuring out what happened—that is, if we were to investigate your uncle’s dealings.”
Waverly didn’t bother to tell him she had been about ready to embark on her own mission to reassure herself that her concerns were still in order.
While she hadn’t exactly accepted Titus’s friendship and offer of assistance, she hadn’t outright shunned him either.
It appeared he was taking that quite seriously.
“All right then,” she complied, then instantly wondered if it was such a good idea when he brushed by her and his hand accidentally touched her skirts.
What would it be like to have those strong hands at her waist?
To feel those arms slip around her and draw her toward him?
To feel his breath on her neck and his lips at her throat—
“Good heavens!” Waverly exclaimed to herself.
Titus’s abrupt halt was accompanied by a look of concern. “What is it?”
Waverly stared at him, swallowing hard and wishing she had better control of her wandering thoughts.
Her mind seemed to explore and contemplate so many things, and now he was staring at her as if she’d come upon a great revelation.
She had, but she certainly wouldn’t tell him that she suspected being kissed by an undertaker would be terrifying and most interesting at the same time, yet she would be willing to try.
Hence her exclamation, and now the blush that crept up her neck.
“Nothing. I-I saw a spider.” She made pretense of investigating the floor.
“A spider.” His tone indicated he didn’t believe her, but if she’d told him the truth, he’d not believe that either, she supposed.
He would most assuredly think less of her.
“Very well,” he went on, dismissing the threat of arachnids.
“Who else besides yourself has a witness account of what happened?”
Waverly set aside her memories. The unidentified man. Their conversation. She had slipped from Traeger Hall without Uncle Leopold or Aunt Cornelia knowing. Had she instead stayed at Traeger Hall . . . she didn’t want to consider the outcome of that.
“I do, sir.” Aveline’s voice in the doorway startled Waverly. Hadn’t she asked Aveline to sit with her aunt and uncle? She had disobeyed and had eavesdropped by sliding open the pocket doors a few inches.
Waverly glared at the maid.
Aveline’s face remained innocent and sincere. She latched her gaze on Titus. “I talked to Cook, sir, the night of the killings.”
“And?” Titus was unaffected by the maid’s sudden and uninvited appearance in the doorway. Instead, he gave Aveline his undivided attention. “What did Cook say?”
“She told me ’twas a man who had pushed his way into the kitchen after he knocked on the kitchen door—the door where we take deliveries and the like. Cook answered it.”
“Show me.” Titus motioned to Aveline, and to Waverly’s surprise and annoyance, Aveline smiled and nodded.
She spun on her heel and headed off toward the kitchen as if she’d acquired a new sense of importance.
Waverly trailed behind. Where had this rather confident Aveline come from all of a sudden?
A rather sneaky little thing and a side of her that Waverly hadn’t seen before.
Once in the kitchen, Titus looked around the room, addressing Aveline, “Is anything amiss or out of order?”
“I don’t think so, sir,” Aveline answered demurely.
Waverly frowned.
Titus strode to the door and opened it, looking out over the path that led from the main driveway. “So the man came through this door?”
“That’s what Cook said,” Aveline affirmed.
“A man knocks on the door, and Cook opens it.” Titus put his hands up as though battling an imaginary assailant. “The brute forces his way into the kitchen but does no harm to Cook?”
“Well, he shoved her,” Aveline said. “Shoved her hard and she fell into that side cupboard there.”
Waverly and Titus both turned to look at the cupboard Aveline pointed out.
“But Cook wasn’t harmed?” Titus asked.
Aveline shook her head. “Not really, no.”
Titus nodded, his face the epitome of concentration. “So then, gaining entrance, the killer leaves the kitchen and goes where?”
“To the library. It is where Uncle Leopold and Aunt Cornelia were spending the evening.” Waverly answered as quickly as she could to shift the conversation away from Aveline.
“The library.” Titus marched out of the kitchen with Waverly on his heels. “He comes through here on his way to the library. What does Cook do?”
Aveline skipped after them. She spoke up without being prompted directly. “Cook told me she chased after him, screaming out a warning to the master of the house.”
Titus rounded a corner. “Did she give a description of the man? I’ve heard only that he was athletic and tall and unidentified.” He shot a meaningful glance at Waverly.
She colored.
Aveline nodded. “Cook said as much and that he was dark. She couldn’t see much more. He had a hat pulled low on his head. He wore a nice coat, though, and expensive shoes.”
Waverly looked away just as she felt Titus turning toward her again.
The unidentified man. Aveline had basically described him just as Constable Morgan had. And yet Waverly knew it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.
Titus stepped into the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the room’s walls.
A dark green carpet covered much of the wood floor.
A chess table stood in the corner with two chairs.
Three stuffed leather chairs encompassed a small area by the fireplace.
But it was the far corner, now void of furniture, that Waverly averted her eyes from.
“The murderer barges into the library, Cook on his heels.” Titus whipped into the room, flailing his arm in dramatic fashion.
“He produces his dagger, threatening the lives of Leopold Traeger and his wife. What does Cook do?” Titus looked over his shoulder at Waverly, his arm still held up as though holding a dagger.
“She—” Waverly started.
“Fainted,” Aveline interrupted, obtaining Titus’s attention once again.
He eyed the maid. “And where were you?”
“Me?” Aveline paled.
“Yes. Were you in the kitchen too? Or upstairs? Where were you at the time of the stabbings?”
“I-I was not h-here, sir,” Aveline stuttered. “I’d been to visit my mother in town. When I heard the bell, I came running back. That was when I heard Cook’s account.”