Chapter Three
Henry
The scene was grotesque, the brutal image an insult to the sanctity of life. The body left for all and sundry to see was a further insult. Henry Evans hadn’t particularly liked Lord Perrin, but no one deserved such.
Henry came down the steps, rubbing a towel to his hair, still damp from his bath.
He perused the faces of those crowded about the body.
Shock was the dominant emotion. Miss Walker had started weeping, her sobs grating in the otherwise hushed silence.
Mr. Smith, still holding a cue stick in his hand from his game in the billiards room, looked more intrigued than shocked.
His daughter, the lovely Miss Smith, looked ill.
And frightened.
Henry stepped carefully around the body and realized, as Perrin’s attorney, he held the most authority right now. It would fall to him to organize matters. And the first step was removing the women from this gruesome scene.
“Please, we’ve all had a terrible shock,” he said. “If you could go to the sitting room. I’m sure we could all do with something hot to drink to settle the nerves.” He started herding the group away from the body with small presses of his palm on the backs of gapers.
One woman stepped away from his prodding hands and walked closer to the body. “I recognize that knife.” Lady Mary tilted her head, a small frown pinching her face. “And stabbed in the chest without any indication that he attempted to fight back. Interesting.”
Henry cupped her elbow. “You can tell the magistrate all about the knife when he arrives.” He tried drawing her away, but she was surprisingly adept at escaping his grip for a woman of her age.
Ignoring her for the moment, Henry turned to one of the footmen. “Can you find a blanket to cover his body?”
The young man nodded and trotted off.
Henry went to the butler, a short but plump man who hadn’t moved except to blink since seeing Perrin’s body. Henry rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Can you send someone to fetch the nearest magistrate?”
The butler pointed a shaking finger at the body. “My lord was the magistrate for this county, but there’s a constable in Modbury. We could send for him. He should know what to do.”
A constable for a village of not even two thousand souls? Henry didn’t hold out much hope in the experience of the local constable when it came to murder, but as he had no other ideas, he nodded. “Send for him at once.”
Looking relieved at having a task, the butler nodded and scurried off. Henry turned to the remaining servants. “If you could serve coffee and tea to the guests and then join us in the sitting room, I think that would be most appropriate. I don’t want anyone alone at the moment.”
They nodded and set off, leaving only Lord Perrin’s body in the hall. And Lady Mary.
The earl’s sister-in-law had a presence much larger than her physical size.
She was most likely half a foot shorter than he, with the snowy white hair and faded blue eyes of one who had seen quite a few years.
But she held her spine ramrod straight and had an air of independence Henry was willing to bet caused consternation in her relations.
“My lady, I know this is distressing, but I feel it best that we join the others.” He held out his arm, indicating the direction of the sitting room. “The proper authorities will take the situation in hand.”
The woman snorted and pushed her spectacles higher up her nose. “Your faith in our justice system is stronger than mine, but perhaps you’ve never known an innocent person who was arrested.” She circled the body. “Does something about this seem amiss?”
Henry shook his head. “Aside from the intentional taking of a life?”
“Yes, aside from that.” She bent, stretching her hand toward the knife handle, and Henry hurried forward.
He grabbed her wrist. “We cannot disturb the body before the constable arrives.” Nor after. Why anyone would want to touch a dead body, much less a lady of quality, was a question he didn’t want to ponder.
“Of course, you’re right.” Lady Mary stepped aside as a footman appeared with a heavy wool blanket.
Henry took one end, the footman the other, and they gently draped the cloth over Perrin. The bulge from the knife under the shroud almost made the tableau more obscene, if that were possible.
“Now, the sitting room, my lady?” When Henry guided her out of the hall, this time, she allowed it.
The rear sitting room was spacious, taking up half the length of Perrin Manor’s back wall.
With all the guests and all the servants crowding into it, however, it felt stifling.
Tea and coffee had been distributed, along with stronger spirits, and clusters of people hovered in small groups speaking in hushed tones.
Instead of joining her fellow guests, Lady Mary headed straight for a group of maids, leaning in to whisper something in her lady’s maid’s ear.
“Bloody hell.” Lord Havenstone lifted one foot to peer at the bottom of his boot. “I’ve stepped in something and tracked it on the rug.”
Henry frowned. Everyone had experienced a great shock, but that was little excuse for poor language in front of women.
A maid stepped forward, clasping her hands. “I’m sorry, my lord. When I heard the scream, I dropped a glass of wine I was clearing. I’ll get something to clean it up.”
“Oh, wait until morning for any cleaning.” Lady Mary squeezed her maid’s arm, then found the nearest chair to drop into. “After such a nasty business, no one should have to clean. Everyone, avoid that wet spot near the sideboard.”
“Is everyone here?” Henry looked to the butler.
“Yes. Well, everyone except Cook Clem. He still remains abed.” There was a round of forlorn sighs before the butler continued.
Perrin’s famed chef had been a draw to many of the guests for accepting his invitation, Henry knew.
His illness and temporary replacement with a less experienced cook had been much lamented.
“But the stable master and all his men are here, along with every other servant.”
“Where’s the dog?” Lady Mary looked at her ankles, as though expecting the terrier to appear at any moment.
“We put him in a room with food and a warm bed.” The butler scratched his head. “We didn’t want him getting into…well, with the body there, we didn’t want….”
Henry nodded. “Quite right. For those who might yet be unaware, Lord Perrin’s body was found at the bottom of the main staircase with a knife in his chest.” Henry rubbed his own chest. It must have hurt, Perrin’s death. Did he not have time to cry out in pain?
“Who found him?” Lady Mary asked.
A red-haired maid raised her hand. “I did. Me and Bob, ’ere. We were going upstairs to check on that one leak, see if the bucket needed emptying. But we didn’t ’ave nothing to do with the lord’s death.”
The butler drew his shoulders back. “Of course not, Marie. No one would think you had.”
Henry was silent. He wouldn’t have thought anyone here could have done such a thing, but obviously, he’d been wrong. Someone had.
“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Mr. Taylor wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “He was always so good to me.”
That Henry found difficult to believe. Lord Perrin had treated Henry, a solicitor, with barely disguised contempt. And attorneys were a step above personal secretaries in the hierarchy of society. But perhaps Perrin had treated the man who worked with him day to day better.
Or perhaps the shock of sudden death had erased some of Taylor’s more unpleasant memories of the earl.
“And an even better neighbor.” Miss Walker dabbed at her eyes. “Always so generous.”
A bark of laughter burst from Mr. Smith’s lips, his bushy eyebrows quivering. He had the grace to look embarrassed at his lack of decorum. “I’m sorry. I believe one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but that doesn’t mean one has to lionize them, either. Not when it isn’t warranted.”
In my dealings with Miss Katherine Smith’s father, I had no problem believing that the man only spoke his mind.
He’d been most vocal in his objections when he’d learned of the change in terms in the marriage contract.
Perrin’s office had nearly shaken from the oaths and insults Mr. Smith had shouted.
He’d made Lord Perrin quite aware what he thought of him in life. Why should he stop in death?
“Here, here.” Mr. Bertram Withers, Perrin’s brother-in-law, raised his glass. “Not everyone is deserving of tears.”
“How can you say that?” Miss Walker daubed a handkerchief under her eyes. “He was the best of men.”
Lady Havenstone, seated near Miss Walker, leaned over and patted the woman’s knee. “I’m sure he’ll be greatly missed.”
“Not everyone will miss him.” Lady Mary leaned back and stared at the ceiling. A lock of her white hair escaped their pins. “Somebody stabbed him.”
That set off another round of tears from Miss Walker and several female servants.
Miss Smith, Henry noted, the victim’s intended, remained dry-eyed.
The marriage had seemed more a business arrangement than love match, and a business arrangement that showed all the signs of crumbling.
Henry wouldn’t blame the woman for feeling some relief.
He dragged his gaze from her face when Lady Mary continued speaking.
“There wouldn’t have been much time,” the lady said. “After Mr. Taylor picked up the knife, it wasn’t more than ten minutes that we’d left this room unoccupied for the killer to pick it up and use it.”
All eyes swung to the secretary. “Yes, I picked it up. It was just lying on that side table. But I put it back down. You saw me put it back down, Lady Mary.”
“Yes, I saw.” She tapped her lips with her knuckle. “Anyone could have come back in to grab it.”
“This is all good information that the authorities will want to hear.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck. All things considered, he wished he were back in the storm chasing dogs. “Perhaps we should wait for the constable to arrive before we speculate.”
“That won’t be happening for a while, I’m afraid.” A man stepped into the sitting room, the bottom of his legs and his collar dripping wet. He gave a slight shake to his head, water droplets flying.
Lady Mary sucked in a breath and sat up straight at the man’s entrance. Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Ryder. What are you doing here?”
The man dipped his head, a smile curving his lips.
He was tall and lean, his light-brown hair threaded through with silver and white.
“I was invited.” His face went serious once more.
“And I’m afraid I’m the last person who will arrive here until the rain stops.
The road is washed out. My carriage driver and I had to walk the last mile. ”
A footman stepped up beside him. “He’s right. I tried riding for Modbury, but turned around when I met Mr. Ryder here. I was risking a broken leg on my horse trying to ride through the muck. We’ll have to wait for the sun to dry things out a bit before getting help.”
The muscles in Henry’s back knotted. Their host had been murdered and ingress and egress from the house had been blocked.
It looked like they were on their own.