Chapter 5 #2
Leith’s face clouded, and his expression turned somber.
His gaze grew distant as he said, “I knew Monty quite well—better than I know Pamela. Although he was older, the Underhills and my family, the Armstrongs, have a long history. Our lands lie in the same part of the country, and the families have been friendly for many generations. When I first came on the town, Monty went out of his way to ease my path into society.” A faint smile flitted over Leith’s face as if he was remembering happier times.
“He was a bit like a favorite uncle crossed with an older cousin to me. I held him in high regard.” After several seconds of being sunk in his memories, Leith stirred, raised his head, and stated, “I always found Monty to be a genial fellow, an excellent host, and an all-around pleasant man. We often crossed paths at White’s, and he always had time for a few words.
” Cynically, Leith added, “Even before I came into the title.”
“Do you know of any reason someone would want to kill him?” Barnaby asked.
Confidently, Leith stated, “No. None at all.” He paused, then added, “In truth, I find it quite shocking that someone has.” He met Barnaby’s eyes. “Do you have any idea who did it?”
Smoothly, Stokes replied, “At present, we’re collecting information regarding what everyone here saw and heard. Once we’ve assembled those facts, we’ll have a clearer view of what happened.”
“I see.” Leith’s gaze, which had shifted to Stokes, flashed to Penelope.
Barnaby rose. “Thank you for your assistance, Leith.”
With a charming smile, Leith got to his feet. “In the circumstances, I can hardly say it was a pleasure, but weathering your inquisition really wasn’t too difficult.” He bowed to Penelope, nodded to Stokes, and joined Barnaby, who guided him from the room.
After Leith left, still at the door, Barnaby glanced inquiringly at Penelope.
She consulted her list. “Lady Susan’s next.”
Barnaby informed Gearing, and while the butler went to look for her ladyship, Barnaby returned to the armchairs.
Stokes looked at Penelope. “So what can you tell me about Lady Susan?”
“She’s Pamela’s sister, younger by several years.
As I recall, the sisters have always got on, always been quite close.
Neither made any splash within the ton, and by ton standards, neither were attractive partis, as both have…
difficult personalities. In particular, Susan is known the length and breadth of the ton as unrelentingly blunt and lacking all tact.
However, being a marquess’s daughters, both sisters eventually married.
Despite the shortcomings of her distinctly sharp and frequently unrestrained tongue, Susan is widely credited with making the better match in ultimately snaring Lord Goodrich.
” Penelope met Stokes’s gaze. “If you found Pamela a trifle haughty, I should warn you that Susan is distinctly snootier and more inclined to keep her nose in the air. She often presents as quite rude.”
Stokes grunted, but, as the door opened, said nothing more.
Penelope, Barnaby, and Stokes rose, and Penelope thanked Susan for her attendance and directed her to the chair facing Penelope’s.
Susan nodded curtly and strode toward them.
In general appearance, she was a younger version of her sister, perhaps an inch or so taller and a trifle more robust, more Junoesque.
She, too, wore her dark hair drawn back from her face in an unflattering style that did nothing to soften the mannish line of her jaw.
Once Susan settled and the investigators resumed their seats, Penelope opened with their agreed first question.
Susan regarded her with a direct gaze. “My daughters and I arrived in our carriage on Saturday. We came early to spend an extra day with my sister and her family. As for why we are here, well, because we were invited, of course, and we—my sister and I—had hopes of fostering an attachment between my younger girl, Samantha, and Vincent.” Susan glowered, and her lips crimped in transparent annoyance.
Sensing something more to be learned, Penelope lightly inquired, “And how are matters faring in that regard?”
“They aren’t,” Susan bluntly replied. “It turned out that Monty had other ideas and strongly opposed the match.” That she deeply resented her brother-in-law’s attitude was beyond question.
“In light of his staunch opposition, I suppose you might say I’m here to cast the net more widely for both of my girls. ”
“Were you and your family at Wyndham Castle recently, with Pamela and her family?”
“Yes. We went home for ten days, then came here.”
Mildly, Penelope asked, “On Monday morning, at what time did you come downstairs?”
“We—my daughters and I—came out of our rooms at about eight o’clock. We gathered in the corridor, and several other ladies and girls joined us—the Hemmingses among others—and we trooped downstairs together and went into the dining room.”
“And once you rose from the table?”
“A group of ladies left the dining room all at once. With the other matrons and the older ladies, I settled in the morning room at first. The young ladies took themselves off to the conservatory, except for Rosalind. She went upstairs.”
“And you remained in the morning room?”
Susan’s gown rustled as she shifted in the chair.
“No. I routinely walk of a morning after breakfast, and I found the chatter a bit much, so I left the others and went out via the terrace to the rose garden. It’s a favorite place of mine here, at Patchcote.
This estate used to be one of our family properties, so I’ve known the house since I was a child, and I’ve watched the roses develop over the years.
” She paused, then exhaled and said, “I was standing among the roses when I heard Rosalind scream.”
“Do you know if anyone else left the house that morning?” Barnaby asked.
“I’ve no idea.” Susan frowned. “I believe the younger crew had spoken of going for a walk around the grounds at some point, but I don’t know if any of them had got that far before it happened.” She glanced at Barnaby. “I didn’t see anyone else while I was outside, if that’s what you want to know.”
Barnaby inclined his head.
Penelope leapt in to ask the question she hoped would elicit a possibly revealing answer. “If you would indulge us, what was your view of Monty?”
Susan’s lips primmed in overt disapproval.
After several seconds of glaring at nothing, she replied, “It’s common knowledge that I always thought Pamela could have done much better for herself.
Then again, she’s known for being stubborn, and there’s no accounting for taste.
So for love of her, I had to accept him, didn’t I?
” She uttered a harsh bark of a laugh. “The irony of Monty then declaring that Samantha wasn’t good enough for his son!
That didn’t escape me, I can assure you!
” Smoldering resentment underlaid the words.
When it was plain she was not about to volunteer anything more, in an even tone, Barnaby asked, “Do you know of any reason why someone would want to kill Monty?”
Susan regarded him dismissively. “No. Of course not.” She waved the point aside. “I might not have liked the man, but most found him a genial sort. A likeable fellow. I find the notion that he was murdered quite incomprehensible.”
Penelope glanced at Stokes, who fractionally shook his head, then she rose, encouraging Susan to do the same. “Thank you for your time, Lady Susan. And your confidences.”
Susan snorted. “Can’t see that they’ll get you much further. You should be out looking for some vagrant—it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Penelope accompanied her ladyship to the door, then sent Gearing to summon Richard.
As she returned to the central armchair, Stokes humphed.
“She was out of the house, supposedly in the rose garden, which, I believe, is on the same side of the house as the orchard. Given the obvious rancor she bore the victim and her general attitude and temper, until we have her whereabouts confirmed over the period between nine and ten o’clock, she will remain a definite suspect. ”
Penelope frowned, apparently unconvinced, but Barnaby agreed. “She’s more than tall enough and strong enough to have delivered the killing blow.”
The door opened, and Richard came in. As, with a quick smile, he came down the room to join them, Barnaby waved him to the interviewee’s chair and explained, “We’re speaking with all the guests, more or less in order of precedence so no one can be viewed suspiciously for being singled out.”
Subsiding into the indicated chair, Richard nodded. “A very wise move, given the guests and the circumstances.”
“Speaking of which,” Penelope said, “how are the other guests reacting to the investigation?”
Richard sat back. “Truth to tell, now the initial shock is wearing off, most are increasingly consumed by curiosity. It’s not every day one gets to observe a murder investigation at close range.”
Somewhat airily, Penelope asked, “And how are the Hemmings sisters coping?”
Barnaby watched as Richard wisely answered rather guardedly.
Hiding a smile at his wife’s abiding interest in matchmaking and intercepting a long-suffering look from Stokes, Barnaby seized the reins.
“To get down to business, to get some idea of who was where and when, we’re asking all the guests a standard set of questions, the first of which is, when did you arrive at the Grange? ”
Very happy to switch tacks, Richard promptly replied, “I traveled down in my carriage with my aunts. We arrived on Sunday, midafternoon.”
“And you’re here because…?” Barnaby asked.
“I’m here because my aunts engineered an invitation, and to keep them quiet, it was easiest to fall in with their plans.
” Richard glanced at Penelope. “As I suspect you already know, my aunts have suggested that Rosalind Hemmings might make me a suitable bride, and this house party provides an opportunity to explore the possibility.”