Chapter Sixteen #3
“Did I not hear of some rivalry between him and Mr. Otteridge?”
Lady Chadbon looked scandalized. “Oh, no, my dear.” She leaned closer. “That was over quite a different sort of female—before Sir Colin’s marriage. Though not, I’m afraid, before Mr. Otteridge’s. That also should not be discussed.”
“Indeed not. I admit I do find myself feeling sorry for Sir Colin…” Not strictly true, but Kate was desperate to keep the conversation on the path she needed.
“I do too,” Lady Chadbon admitted. “The man might be a successful government minister, but he has had such constant, personal bad luck.”
“Really? Is it not some twenty years since his wife died?”
“Oh, yes, but then there was Lady Lilias, who would have made him such an excellent wife—the perfect hostess, and so bright and capable and respected. But that was not to be either.”
“Why not?” Kate asked, her eyes darting in case someone approached and disturbed the conversation at this crucial point.
“She died, sadly, in a riding accident. About ten years ago, now. Ah, here is tea.”
Frustratingly, Kate had to spend the next several minutes ferrying cups of tea to everyone in the room, smiling while her mind reeled with speculation.
Did Nye simply kill people when they became inconvenient, or annoyed him?
If so, Kate must have annoyed him quite a lot by her questioning.
The man barely looked at her now as he took his tea, but his fingers still contrived to brush hers against the saucer.
It had happened before. She had taken it for an older man’s amiable flirting. Now, just like Otteridge’s pursuit, she saw it as a threat. She really had been na?ve at best.
She needed to speak to Sir Colin’s sister, but Miss Nye was with a group of ladies surrounding the curate. As Kate walked across to Rupert with the last cup of tea, he rose, shedding the ladies like layers of shawls in the sunshine, and came to meet her.
“I need to talk to you,” she whispered urgently. “I think it’s Nye. Women die around him all the time.”
“Only you and Mrs. Newman had muddy boots last night,” he muttered. “Or at least put them out in the passage for cleaning.”
“Nye could have shot at me from the library. Or his own bedchamber.”
“Yes, but the more I think about it, the more I feel the noise and the smell of the shot would have been more obvious if it had come from inside. It must have been outside.”
“But anyone could be hiding muddy boots,” Kate objected.
“Exactly, which is why we have to search the bedchambers. Now would be an excellent time.”
She didn’t even have to think about it. He didn’t know which rooms belonged to their suspects. “I’ll plead my illness of last night and retire early. You take your leave and I’ll let you back in the side door.”
Her heart beating with excitement, Kate returned to Lady Chadbon, and drank her tea in a distracted kind of way.
Why had she not searched everyone’s rooms earlier?
Because it was such bad form, it had never entered her head.
But now it seemed to be the only way forward.
Who knew what she might find? Muddy boots, a weapon, even a diary…
Otteridge and Nye had to be their first quarries. She rose to give the approaching Mrs. Otteridge her place next to Lady Chadbon.
“Do you know, I believe I am still not quite the thing,” she said to them. “If you don’t mind, I shall retire early and sleep it off for the journey tomorrow.”
“Very wise, my dear,” Lady Chadbon said solicitously. “Is there anything I might fetch for you to help? A tonic, a headache powder?”
“No, thank you. I am convinced sleep is my best cure! Goodnight, my lady, Mrs. Otteridge…”
She didn’t look at Rupert as she slipped away.
In her room, she rang the bell for Grissy and peered out the window to make sure she didn’t miss Rupert’s leaving the house.
Grissy arrived, frowning with suspicion. “What now? Why are you going to bed so early?”
“Things to do, Grissy,” Kate said, spying the unmistakable figure of Rupert emerging from the front door and pausing to put his hat on and glance up at the sky. She heard the faint sound of the door closing behind him. “Stay here and don’t allow anyone in the room. I’m already asleep.”
“Then why am I still loitering in your bedchamber?” Grissy demanded.
“Worrying about me,” Kate said, hurrying past her to the door.
“At least that’s the truth. Miss Kate—”
“Bless you, Grissy. I shouldn’t be long.”
She sped along to the east wing staircase and down to the side door without seeing anyone. It made her realize again how easy it could have been for someone to go about unseen and kill Dinah. And shoot at me.
From this side of the house, she couldn’t even hear the servants clearing up, either in the kitchen or the dining room. Like last night, a couple of wall sconces provided a dim light on the staircase and the passage to the side door.
The door itself was locked, so she turned the key as gently as she could. As soon as she began to ease open the door, someone large slipped inside. Her heart lurched in sudden fear, for it was a stranger.