Chapter 8 #2
“I shall be the soul of discretion,” Major Stuart said.
“But, my lady, clearly someone was badly wounded in this room tonight, perhaps even murdered. I shall do all in my power to keep the Residency from being cast in an unfavorable light, but we must consider the fact that either someone attending the party had issue with Captain Miller and wanted the documents he possessed, or Miller himself was the perpetrator and fought someone, ending the altercation with what looks to be an enormous amount of blood loss.” Stuart glanced at Anthony. “We must locate Miller.”
Anthony nodded, his expression tight.
“You would help Major Stuart investigate?” Lady Pilkington looked at Anthony as if she were a lost child. “You’re a good sort, Lord Wilshire, and I do feel infinitely reassured by that.”
His face softened, and he again took the lady by the elbow. “We shall solve this mystery, never you fear.”
Lord and Lady Pilkington headed for the door, and Sophia flattened herself against the wall, hoping she might go unnoticed in the dark hallway, that the dark blue of her uniform costume would blend in.
The Pilkingtons walked past her, unseeing, and Sophia held her breath until they turned the corner and disappeared from her view.
“You may as well come out now, Sophia,” came the dry comment from the doorway.
She turned to see Anthony watching her with a half-smile.
“When did you see me?” She was rather disgruntled; she thought she’d been very stealthy.
“The moment you spied around the corner.” He gestured toward the room with his head, and she followed him into the study.
Stuart’s expression registered surprise. “Miss Elliot?” He looked at Anthony in question.
Sophia waved a hand at them. “You needn’t worry—I shan’t tell tales of your espionage. I simply wondered why Anthony was so preoccupied while we danced, so I tracked him here.”
Stuart squatted to examine the Turkish rug; he touched his finger to the edge of the garishly dark red stain. “Drying around the edges,” he said. “This probably happened just after I spotted Miller the first time and then lost him.”
Anthony frowned. “Given the time frame, I’m not certain I remember who was in the ballroom.”
“The crowds are in constant flux,” Sophia said. “People are shifting between the ballroom and the verandah, and I also saw several people in the library and lounge.”
Anthony nodded. “And we do not even know for certain that whomever scuffled in here were official party attendees. It could have been someone else Miller knew, someone who had nothing to do with the party.”
Stuart stood. “We must assume that one of the people was Captain Miller. It is his packet of documents that is missing from the safe, and now the man himself has disappeared.”
“We also might assume that if Miller wasn’t the victim here, whomever bled on this rug will have family or associates who will soon report him missing.”
“Or her,” Sophia put in. “It could have been a woman who fought with him.”
The two men nodded, Stuart with apparent respect. “Very foolhardy of me to not have considered the things a woman would notice.”
“She is observant—sometimes uncomfortably so.” Anthony smiled, rueful.
“Gentlemen,” Sophia said, clasping her hands. “My curiosity knows no bounds. If I may, what is the nature of this business with Captain Miller?”
The two men exchanged a glance, and Stuart circled the desk near the blood puddle, examining the floor as he walked. As evasions went, it was well-executed. Sophia turned her attention to Anthony.
“He is Jack’s former sea captain, Sophia. His ship was the Firefly.”
Sophia blinked. She didn’t remember Jack sailing on any ship by that name. What was Anthony not telling her? “So you were passing along Jack’s well wishes?” she asked carefully.
Anthony gave the barest hesitation, then nodded, his eyes and expression giving nothing away.
“You certainly are devoted. Given your distracted manner earlier in the ballroom, it seemed that your intent in locating the man involved more than a mere exchange of felicitations on behalf of a former first mate.”
Anthony ran a hand through his hair and briefly closed his eyes. “Sophia, I—”
She held up her hand. “Clearly there is more at work here than you wish to discuss with me. Do remember, however,” she said, looking at Major Stuart, who regarded her with the same calm, careful manner as Anthony, “that there are places a woman can access that a man cannot. Should you find yourself in need of an additional pair of eyes, I am at your disposal.”
Sophia looked at the bloodstain and suppressed a shudder.
“How on earth did someone move a body without leaving a blood trail, I wonder? Wrap something about the wound, then . . . drag the person to either the window or door? But venturing into the hallway would run the risk of witnesses. . . . There should be some sort of dragging pattern somewhere, wouldn’t you think? ”
Anthony and Dylan both looked down at the floor, and Anthony’s mouth turned upward as he glanced back at her.
“The rug here is matted along the edge.” He pointed to the spot and then followed it to the large window that opened onto the Residency’s side yard.
The window slid open easily, and he looked over the edge.
After a moment, he closed the window with a chuckle.
“I do believe you are right, Miss Elliot. Bind the wound to avoid leaving an even larger blood trail that might be followed, drag the unconscious person to the window, and dump him out. It appears that the orchids growing alongside the house have been crushed.”
Dylan shook his head, his smile wry. “We have not been here long enough to assess the scene, you know, Miss Elliot. Our first priority was getting the Pilkingtons out of the room. We would have discovered this evidence eventually.” He clearly teased her, and she laughed.
“Of course you would. Well, gentlemen, I shall leave you to it.” Sophia left the room, determined to stick close to her sponsor’s side for the rest of the evening.
At one time or another, the woman would likely speak to everyone in attendance, even if only to wish them farewell at the evening’s close.
Someone in the big house knew something.