Chapter Twenty-Four
Katherine
A light drizzle had forced everyone back inside. A newspaper that had finally reached them said the massive storm had traveled to England all the way from the West Indies. Katherine pulled a shawl over her shoulders. The returning damp had brought a chill.
Or perhaps that had been her close call with death.
Mr. Taylor had almost shot her and the other women.
She couldn’t believe it had been intentional.
Even he wouldn’t be so foolish as to think he could get away with shooting a person in front of witnesses, but there was no comfort in the idea that if she’d died, it would have been by accident.
Miss Walker had drawn the Havenstones and Mr. Withers into a game of riddles. On the best of days Katherine didn’t excel at that game, and today was not the best of days.
She had almost been killed, and relief and exhilaration now flooded her veins from the knowledge that even though she had been close to death, she yet lived.
Watching Mr. Evans drag Mr. Taylor away by the scruff of his neck had only added to her disquiet.
She wasn’t proud of it, but seeing Mr. Evans manhandle the person who had been harassing her had been just the teensiest bit thrilling.
Mr. Evans was a man who could quote Wordsworth, yet looked as though he would dominate anyone else in a physical fight. A man who challenged her to the point of irritation, yet gave her his jacket when she was cold.
She sighed. Her attraction to him was now so apparent she could no longer deny it.
She had developed feelings for Mr. Evans, and he was a man of trade.
Her father would never allow any relationship to develop.
Katherine would always have Mr. Evans to compare against whomever her father chose to be her husband.
And she had the feeling that whoever that poor man was, he would never measure up.
She held the novel she’d borrowed from Perrin’s library up to her face, peering over the top of it to the settee across the rear sitting room.
Her father and Mr. Evans were engaged in conversation, appearing the best of friends.
She knew her father approved of the manner Mr. Evans had dealt with Mr. Taylor, but that approval would never extend to allowing the attorney as a suitor.
Her father had nothing to gain from such a match.
She turned an unread page. Mr. Taylor hadn’t joined them for luncheon, or in the sitting room, but she had caught a glimpse of a very puffy lip as she’d entered the house. Taylor had disappeared up a stairwell and hadn’t been seen since.
“Mr. Withers, that riddle makes no sense,” Lord Havenstone objected.
Mr. Withers reddened. “And I say it does.”
Miss Walker and Lady Havenstone attempted to bring peace, but the anger of the men didn’t subside until their drinks had been refreshed with very generous pours and the promise of no more riddles that day.
A loud guffaw brought her gaze back to her father, and the hand he clapped on Mr. Evans’s shoulder.
Her heart twisted. She hadn’t been acquainted with Mr. Evans long enough to know if he would be a man she’d want to spend her life with, but the fact that she wouldn’t get to choose, that she would never be allowed to know, made her ache.
There were so many women who would love to be in her position.
She never worried when her next meal was coming, never had to worry about being alone or unprotected.
She had every luxury a woman could want.
So many would trade their ability to choose their own husband for the chance to be as safe and pampered as she.
She was an ungrateful wretch to complain. To want more.
Katherine swallowed, the back of her throat aching.
And yet, she did. She couldn’t help herself.
And because she felt guilty, about wanting more, about being the slightest bit relieved that Perrin was dead so she didn’t have to marry him, when Lord Havenstone whispered something to his wife, looked furtively about, and left the room, Katherine rose to follow.
If Lady Mary had been there, she would have had a partner in mischief, she had no doubt. But Lady Mary was taking tea in her room. Mr. Evans was chuckling at something her father said. So it was up to her to see if Havenstone was up to no good.
She’d expected him to perhaps go to Perrin’s study or to the earl’s private chambers.
Had Lady Mary searched those yet? Katherine chewed on her bottom lip as she crept after the baron.
But instead of either of those destinations, Havenstone instead turned for the stairs leading down to the kitchens.
She had to wait until the baron had gone down the entire flight and turned out of sight before she felt safe enough to follow.
She inhaled a sharp breath when one of the steps creaked, but there was enough noise coming from below that detection seemed improbable.
When she reached the bottom, she inched her head around the corner but saw nothing but an empty hallway.
Katherine didn’t know why her heart jumped about like a rabbit fleeing a fox.
While it would be unusual for a guest to visit the servants’ areas, it wasn’t forbidden.
She could easily say she wanted an apple but hadn’t felt the need to bother a servant to fetch it.
But the knowledge of an easy excuse didn’t calm her nerves.
She peeked into the kitchen but all she saw was the secondary cook and two maids cleaning the dishes from lunch.
She hurried past the doorway. The next room was a large store room.
A side of lamb hung from a hook on an exposed beam, and sacks of flour and sugar lined a shelf.
A door that led outside blew inward an inch, a few drops of rain splattering on the stone floor.
Had Havenstone left by that door, or gone up the other staircase at the far end of the hall? And why come down here at all?
She entered the store room. It connected to the kitchen through a door-shaped hole in the wall. Making sure the servants in the kitchen weren’t looking her way, Katherine crossed to the outer door and pulled it open.
The path was gravel, so there were no fresh footprints to indicate if the baron had left by this exit or not.
She frowned as the front of her dress dampened from the rain.
If Havenstone had left this way, he would reenter the house wet, but she could hardly prowl about every entrance waiting for his return to test the dryness of his clothes.
She closed the door. The change in air pressure caused the other remaining door on the side of the room to snap closed.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandmother used to say.
She hurried across the floor and pulled the door open.
The watery light streaming in from the store room’s windows gave a dim illumination to the pantry.
More food stuffs were stocked along two walls.
The third wall held more interesting items.
Katherine ran her fingers along several small envelopes.
Dover’s Powder was written on one of them.
Calomel on another. She grimaced. She remembered having to take that purgative.
There were several glass bottles also, with labels from laudanum to tincture of rhubarb.
Lord Perrin’s collection of home remedies was extensive.
Had Lord Havenstone come downstairs for this? She’d learned just how many medicines could be deadly if given in too large a dose. And if Havenstone had come here, did that mean someone else was in danger?
She placed a tin of sulfur powder back on the shelf and exited, closing the door tightly behind her.
She met one maid on her way back upstairs, but simply nodded and smiled and kept on her way.
She went back to the sitting room, hoping to find that Lady Mary had joined them.
Katherine didn’t know what to think of Havenstone sneaking about.
It might mean nothing other than he suffered from indigestion and didn’t have a remedy in his personal travel case of medicines.
But it might mean something. She felt sure Lady Mary would know which category to put his actions under.
But the older woman still hadn’t left her room.
Mr. Withers had joined her father and Mr. Evans in conversation, each man boasting of one time or another when a disagreement of theirs had turned to fisticuffs and he had emerged the victor.
Katherine rubbed her arm. She didn’t want to admire Mr. Evans for simply thrashing a man who had almost hurt her, but she couldn’t deny it did funny things to her belly. Besides, Mr. Taylor had deserved it.
Before Miss Walker could make eye contact and invite her to join in another game, Katherine crossed to the casement doors that led to the terrace and gazed out.
This rain didn’t seem to be coming down hard enough to close the roads, and she hoped for all their sakes that the magistrate wouldn’t be further delayed. The constable had gone home after relaying his message, and the house felt vulnerable without someone of authority watching over it.
Southey trotted over to her. He wagged his tail, his whole rear end swaying with the movement, as she bent to pat him. He nudged at the door with his nose and whined.
She opened the door to let him out. Instead of running to the garden to do his business as was his wont, the terrier raced to the corner of the terrace, pawing at something that lay behind a large potted plant.
Katherine’s eyebrows drew together.
“Close the door,” a woman called.
Katherine drew her shawl more tightly about her shoulders but ignored the order. She took a step outside, staying under the small covered section. She tilted her head. It didn’t make sense. Why would a boot be laying there like that?
She took another step, her mind refusing to acknowledge what her eyes saw. Because that boot was attached to a leg, and the farther she walked, the more of the body she saw.
She came abreast of the potted lily of the valley, blinking rapidly.
Southey yipped and pranced about, looking for all the world like he’d just won a game of hide-and-go-seek and wanted a reward. She bent and picked him up, absent-mindedly scratching behind his ear, her eyes never leaving the body.
She’d told Lady Mary and Mr. Evans that he hadn’t killed Perrin, and now she had proof that she was right. Because Mr. Taylor lay at her feet with a large knife sticking from his chest, his eyes open and vacant.
Mr. Taylor might have deserved many things, but he hadn’t deserved this.