Chapter Two
At this point, Lady Chadbon, who must have followed Kate after all, swayed alarmingly beside her, and Kate caught her, supporting her with an arm around her waist. But it was too late: Chadbon had finally noticed their presence.
“Marjorie?” he exclaimed, striding to block their view of the body. “My dear, you should not see this! Go back to our guests and reassure them. When Remington comes, I’ll see if this can’t all be hushed up. All will be well, I assure you.”
Not for the maid, it won’t be, nor for her family, ever again… Kate blinked as Chadbon’s fierce gaze shifted to her and seemed to pin her.
“Lady Ambrose, I must ask your discretion and your care of my wife.”
“Of course,” Kate murmured, slightly taken aback by the man’s priorities. She cast a last glance at Rupert, who, rising stiffly to his feet, seemed unnaturally slow and dazed as he moved away and folded himself onto a wooden garden bench. What on earth had happened here? What had he seen?
She turned reluctantly away from the scene, guiding Lady Chadbon back through the orangery, where Her Ladyship took a deep breath and freed herself from Kate’s hold. Instead, she linked their arms and patted Kate’s hand.
“Goodness, that was quite a shock. I am so sorry you had to see that.”
“The poor girl. So young… Is her family local?”
“They’ll be looked after, of course. Lady Ambrose—Kate—you do understand how damaging this could be for everyone, don’t you?
For the girl to die here is bad enough, but for her to have done so in such a way could leave this house and all within it under a cloud of speculation.
That can only be damaging to our causes, our party, and indeed the country.
Chadbon is right—discretion is the only way forward.
Please, follow my lead and say nothing to anyone of this. ”
Kate stared at her. “Ma’am, you cannot keep a murder secret!”
“The law will be followed,” Lady Chadbon said sharply, then more gently, with another pat of Kate’s hand.
“Of course it will. But don’t be na?ve, my dear.
You must know appearance is often more important than reality.
If the scandal rags sniff out an opportunity, they can easily turn this tragedy into some lurid melodrama that might take us all down—including your husband, though he isn’t even here. ”
It was a timely warning, Kate supposed, although in that moment, she felt the same kind of rebellion against Lady Chadbon’s words as she had once against her mother’s laws of propriety, which were also largely a matter of appearance over substance. She supposed she could live with this too.
They emerged from the orangery into the hall, where Lady Chadbon summoned the housekeeper to her side.
“Get the servants safely to bed, reassure them, and impress upon them the necessity of silence. Their positions depend upon it. Poor Dinah collapsed and will, of course, be taken care of. Thank you, Mrs. Thornfield.”
So that was the maid’s name. Dinah…
In the drawing room, conversation stopped when they entered.
“Anything wrong, Lady Chadbon?” Sir Colin Nye asked in concerned tones.
Lady Chadbon smiled. “A minor domestic accident. One of the maids collapsed. The servants are taking care of it. Would anyone care for a game of cards before we retire?”
The offer drove several more people toward bed. After all, they had a full day’s negotiations on many issues to get through tomorrow, during strolls and meals, shooting parties and billiards games, and snoozing…
And Dinah would still be dead with a blade in her heart.
Why was Rupert still in the house? More to the point, where was the murderer? Was anybody safe in this house? In this neighborhood?
Sleep was out of the question for Kate, but she nevertheless bade the remaining company goodnight. And then, when the footman had closed the drawing room door firmly, she flitted silently downstairs once more.
In the hall, Kemp was admitting a visitor, a bluff old gentleman of perhaps sixty.
“Mr. Remington, sir, our thanks for turning out so late. You have been very quick—”
“The boy caught me at the end of the road. On my way home from Caldicott’s… What’s to do, Kemp?”
“Let me take your hat, sir,” the butler said evasively, “though you may prefer to keep your coat on until you’ve seen His Lordship. This way, if you—”
Kate interrupted without a qualm, all but flying down the last few stairs and hurrying across to the newcomer, who blinked at her in understandable surprise.
Kate thrust out her hand. “You must be Mr. Remington, the magistrate,” she said confidentially. “I’m Lady Ambrose.”
Courtesy compelled him to bow over her hand, although he cast Kemp a glance that pleaded for enlightenment.
“One of Her Ladyship’s guests, sir,” the butler murmured.
“You will have your hands full handling the servants, Kemp,” Kate said, “I’ll take Mr. Remington to His Lordship.”
“Very civil of you, my lady,” Remington said, half bewildered, half gratified. He even offered his arm, which Kate accepted with aplomb.
Kemp opened and closed his mouth with alarm, no doubt worried about his master’s reaction, but Kate was already hustling the magistrate across the hall to the closed orangery doors.
Mr. Remington opened them, bowed her inside, and closed the doors behind them.
As though he heard the sounds, Chadbon called from outside, and Remington strode across the orangery and out into the garden.
Kate followed, trying to look inconspicuous.
“Dear me, dear me,” Remington said. “What a shocking thing! One of yours, Chadbon?”
“Yes, one of ours.”
“Any idea what happened?” Remington asked, bending to look at the body.
“None.”
Rupert still sat where Kate had last seen him, so she slipped onto the bench next to him. He turned his head and blinked. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should she. They’re going to cover it up, Rupe.”
Too late—as his gaze clashed with hers, she saw the turbulence in his eyes, the grief and anger that was not remotely abstract. All the breath fled from her body.
He knows her. This hurts him…
In more ways than one…
“Who found her?” the magistrate asked Chadbon.
Chadbon nodded directly at Rupert. “He did. Fell over her and called out for help.”
Remington straightened with an effort and fixed Rupert with a scowl. “You’re Bancroft’s new fellow, aren’t you? The curate?”
“Grande,” Rupert said.
“What?” Remington scowled, as though suspecting him of some kind of impudence or mockery.
“My name,” Rupert said mildly, “is Grande. I am indeed Mr. Bancroft’s curate.”
“Then what the devil are you doing here?”
“We invited him for dinner,” Chadbon murmured. “Though to be sure, I thought he’d gone. What were you still doing here, Grande?”
The truth struck Kate like a blow. He hadn’t been waiting in the orangery for her but for Dinah. Of course. He was a rake, a womanizer who had never taken his vows of ordination remotely seriously…
Oh, Rupert, what have you done?
“Pastoral care,” Rupert said. Kate remembered him like this, making flippant, even witty comments while his mind was busy on something else entirely. In this case, he seemed to become aware that something more was required of him, for he stirred and added, “Dinah asked for my help.”
“With what?” Chadbon demanded.
“The matter was private.”
“She’s dead!” Chadbon exploded. “There is no privacy, so for God’s sake—”
“We’ll get to that, my lord,” Remington interrupted. “Is this how you found her, Grande?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t move the body?”
Rupert shook his head.
“At what time,” the magistrate demanded, “did you find her?”
Rupert rubbed one finger across his forehead. “I’m not sure, exactly. A few minutes after half past ten. I heard the clock strike.”
“From where?” Remington asked.
Rupert gestured vaguely behind him to the orangery.
“What were you doing in there?”
“Waiting for Dinah.”
“What time had you arranged to meet her?”
“At half past ten. I waited a while after the clock struck, maybe ten minutes or so, and then went outside to see if she was there. I meant to wait another five minutes and then go home.”
“Were you angry?” Remington asked.
A frown flickered on Rupert’s brow. “Angry? No, I assumed her duties kept her too busy. It would have been hard for her to get away when there were so many guests in the house.”
“Then why make the assignation for that time?”
“It was Dinah’s idea. I’m not under a curfew.”
“You lodge at the vicarage with Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft?”
Rupert nodded.
Remington grunted and turned back to the body, plucking at his lower lip. “Doctor on his way?”
“Kemp sent for Paxton,” Chadbon said.
“So Grande found the body and called for help,” Remington mused. “Who came?”
“Kemp.”
“And what did Kemp see?”
Chadbon shrugged impatiently. “The body. With Grande kneeling there beside it.”
“Doing what?” Remington demanded.
“Praying, apparently…” Chadbon frowned suddenly, eyeing the curate. “Though according to Kemp, his hand was hovering over the dagger.”
Remington’s gaze swung sharply back to Rupert. Beside him, Kate felt his indrawn breath.
“What the devil for?” the magistrate said.
“I was trying to decide what to do. It seemed obscene to leave it sticking out of her, but I know what happens when…” Rupert broke off, swallowing convulsively, and rubbed a palm along the length of his thigh.
“Do you know your hand is shaking?” Remington said.
“Yes,” Rupert replied. “I don’t like death.”
“Afraid you’ll see plenty of it as a clergyman, though not normally this violent. Ah, Paxton!”
Another man, presumably the doctor, walked toward them from the other side of the orangery, which stuck out from the main house like a peninsula. “Good God,” he exclaimed, stopping dead at sight of the deceased maid.
“Anything you can tell us at this point would be helpful, sir,” Remington said. “I’m sure His Lordship would take it as a favor if you left your full examination to your own premises.”