Murder Among Apples (A Chance Inquiry #6)

Chapter 1

The sun claimed the golden hour as the Branstokes’ hired coach climbed the hill before the Monteith mansion. The late afternoon light shining on the commanding structure turned it to a rose gold.

“Gracious,” Lady Cecilia Branstoke murmured as she stared out the carriage window. While exhausted, and her head and stomach still green from seasickness incurred on the sail from Folkestone to Dartmouth, she couldn’t help but admire their destination.

Four days at sea had been harder than she ever could have imagined.

She hoped she would recover quickly, or she might be of no use in their investigation into the dangers facing Gideon Tallevast, the Earl of Monteith.

It had been his letter to James, his cousin, that had them hurrying from Kent to Devon by way of the English Channel.

He claimed in his letter that he believed someone was trying to either injure him, drive him mad, or kill him.

He’d been so concerned he’d sent his young daughter to the home of James’ parents for the summer.

James assured her his cousin was not a man for flights of fancy.

His circumstance in life precluded folly.

She placed her elbow on the edge of the carriage window, propping her head in that hand as she considered the estate they approached and what they might possibly be walking into.

Her husband, Sir James Branstoke, leaned over her to look at what she saw, then leaned back.

He smiled. “It is indeed a striking estate seen at this time of day. It is built of pale gray limestone; however, there are enough pink and red glittery bits in the limestone to pick up the light from the sun and shine forth at this hour and sometimes in the early morning light as well.”

“It certainly makes for an arresting view of the mansion.”

Her husband laughed. “If memory serves, there is a painting of the house done in the same light. It hung in the dining room.”

“Does the mansion have a name?”

“Pomum Court. Pomum is Latin for Apple.”

She turned toward him, then almost wished she hadn’t, for her head pounded at the sudden movement.

“Did you visit here often?” she asked, striving for a modicum of normalcy for James’ benefit.

He had unstintingly cared for her during the journey, through bouts of cast-up accounts and moaning while she curled into herself.

The seasickness surprised her. She’d thought she would be stronger than to succumb to the motion of the waves.

Now, on land again, she promised herself she would regroup. She would be strong!

“No, not often,” he answered. “The roads between here and Yorkshire are not kind,” he said dryly, sending her a sideways look. “I spent more time with Gideon at Summerworth Park and in London than here.”

Her brow furrowed. “I believe you once told me he had been a solicitor before becoming the earl after his brother’s passing. Why didn’t he go into the military as you did?” she asked.

He huffed and his lips quirked up on one side. “It was a matter of his stature—certainly not his courage—as you shall see when you meet him.”

Her eyes widened. She looked at him quizzically but knew he wouldn’t say more. She turned—slowly this time to save her aching head—to look back to the view of the manor, the rose gold giving way to twilight shadows.

As soon as the yacht they’d journeyed in from Folkestone to Dartmouth docked, James sent a messenger to his cousin to advise him of their arrival.

Therefore, it should not have been a surprise to Cecilia to see a clutch of people standing on the steps before the entrance to the mansion as the carriage swept up before the property.

In front of them stood a short, blond-haired man with a smiling, engaging countenance.

“That’s Gideon,” James said.

“That’s your cousin?” Cecilia asked, now staring intently at the man. “He looks shorter than me!”

“He is,” James agreed in his typical laconic manner.

She glared at her husband. He was enjoying her surprise and confusion too much! She compressed her lips and glared at him as she often did when he playfully knew something she didn’t.

The carriage rolled to a stop as two footmen hurried down the broad, stone steps to open the carriage door and let down the carriage steps. The gentleman James indicated as Gideon followed more slowly behind them. Cecilia studied him.

In manner of form, he was in proportion, but shorter than her, and at barely five foot tall, she was considered a small woman.

She could tell by the lay of his well-tailored clothing that he was muscular and fit.

She could also see by his easy manner and smiling brown eyes—eyes that surprisingly resembled her husband’s—that no self-consciousness clung to him.

James descended from the carriage first, but when he would turn to hand Cecilia down, his cousin was before him.

“Cousin!” he said as he held out his hand to her. Cecilia smiled as she accepted his assistance out of the carriage. When she stepped down, he pulled her hand into the crook of his arm to lead her toward Pomum Court.

He turned his head toward James. “She is nearly my size,” he said delightedly. “And a beautiful lady.” He turned to look at Cecilia. He laid his other hand over her hand where it rested on his arm. “How could such a dry, imperturbable fellow as my cousin capture your attention?”

Cecilia’s eyes sparkled. “What is a woman to do when a man saves her reputation and her life—several times?”

The earl looked between James and Cecilia. James’ lips quirked upward on one side of his mouth.

“I see we shall have stories to exchange,” Gideon said, his eyes twinkling with good humor.

To Cecilia, he did not look like a gentleman in fear for his life, as his letter to James had intimated. Had they come harrying to Devon on a fool’s errand? The idea made her headache worse. She looked over at her husband.

Something of her thoughts must have registered in her features, for he nodded slightly. “You look quite hale and hearty for a man threatened,” James said dryly.

The earl huffed. “Appearances, Cousin,” he said in a soft voice.

“Deceptive appearances. We will discuss such matters later.” Then his voice grew stronger.

“The funds from selling Summerworth Park to you have afforded needed repairs to Pomum Court. I can scarcely remember how the estate looked when I took over, that is how much better the estate seems.”

Cecilia strove to keep her countenance tranquil, though she couldn’t help but wonder at his manner. The earl led her up the wide steps before the imposing mansion. Once inside he dropped her arm, then grabbed her hand to kiss her gloved knuckles.

“I should have warned you, my love,” James said archly as he removed his gloves and took off his high-crowned beaver hat to hand to a waiting footman, “my cousin is an ardent flirt.”

In a theatrical motion, the earl placed his hand on his chest. “How could I not be in the company of such a beauty as yourself, my dear lady?”

“Doing it much too brown, my dear fellow,” James drawled. Cecilia repressed a laugh.

The earl’s smiling countenance slipped. “It is either that, or run mad,” he said solemnly. “Please, join me for a moment in the library before I have Mrs. Duggleston see you to your suite.”

While Cecilia’s head screamed for a soft pillow to lay down on, her curiosity screamed louder. She and James followed the earl into a magnificent room with two stories of intricately carved bookshelves, all polished to a high gleam and smelling of citrus and wax.

After seeing everyone seated and offered a glass of port—Cecilia declined—Gideon downed his drink in one swallow and set it on the wood-and-gilt table at his elbow.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I don’t pretend to understand what is going on or why; however, pranks and accidents have been occurring. The worst ‘accident’,” he said, drawing out the word, “happened four nights ago, well after I sent you that letter. I believe this one was more than a prank.”

“How so?” James asked.

“I was returning home from the Carnegie Farm, my largest tenant farm, nearly larger than the Home Farm. Good people, there. I say this because of what happened near the edge of the tenant property. I was later returning home than I’d wanted to be and riding at a brisk trot.

The sun was in my eyes as I came up a small rise.

Suddenly my mare screamed, bucked, and stumbled forward, throwing me over her head. My horse went down.”

Cecilia gasped. A vision of horror and the sound of a horse screaming echoed in her imagination.

She flashed a look at her husband. The faint humor that so often lingered about him had vanished.

She recognized that stillness—he was no longer just a cousin listening to misfortune.

He’d gone into that other quiet, the one he rarely wore within society, the quiet that harkened back to battlefield demons.

He was vested in his cousin’s life. Cecilia felt a stir of excitement.

“She tried to get back to her feet but couldn’t,” Gideon continued. “A wire laid across the path had been pulled up just as we approached. We didn’t see it. It cut deep into both of her front legs, reaching clear to the bone.”

“You could have been killed,” observed Cecilia, her fingers curled tightly together. She took a breath and consciously willed them to relax.

“I know.” Gideon compressed his lips. “I wasn’t injured more than a bruise or two, but I lost a good horse.

I had to put her down.” He shook his head.

“I don’t understand. People in the neighborhood and the village seem to approve of what I’ve been doing here at Pomum.

But for the past months there have been malicious mischief incidents, as I described to you in my letter.

Sometimes a note appears afterward, commenting on the activity and saying more will come unless I do what they request of me. ”