Chapter 28- Margaret
At six o’clock the following evening, a motley collection of guests had assembled in the front parlor of the Preston house. Margaret blinked around the room and did her best to smile in a welcoming manner.
When Rachel had planned this party at her house, Margaret had assumed that she’d know everyone, but there were several people she’d only seen in passing. One of the guests was Lord Shaw. Margaret was grateful that the last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t really been able to see her.
She sidled up to Rachel, who was shuffling through a stack of parchment. “Please tell me you cleared this with our housekeeper.”
“Of course. It’s your party. What kind of friend would I be if I’d failed to inform your housekeeper?”
“It’s my party, is it?” Margaret asked. At Rachel’s answering nod, she added, “Then would you please be so kind as to introduce me to my guests?”
If Rachel felt the irony of the request, she didn’t let on. “Certainly. Actually, it would save a lot of time if I just did the introductions loudly, all at once.”
Margaret blinked. On the one hand, she was grateful that she wasn’t the only interloper here—that there were others in the grouping who weren’t acquainted with one another.
On the other hand, what Rachel was proposing simply wasn’t done.
Introductions were highly choreographed interactions, with many rules of rank and decorum attached. Surely she wouldn’t truly—
“Excuse me,” Rachel said loudly, stepping to the center of the room. The polite discussions between those who did know each other ceased immediately. “As many of our group are unknown to each other, if you’ll allow, I’d like to make introductions to the group as a whole.”
Rachel looked to Callum and raised a questioning eyebrow. As the highest in rank, he would be the one most justifiably offended at what she proposed. He gave her an indulgent smile and a nod.
“Wonderful,” she continued. “Then may I begin by presenting our esteemed hostess and my very dear friend, Miss Margaret Preston?”
Margaret gave a little curtsy toward the group since she didn’t know quite what else to do. Rachel continued around the circle, introducing each guest. Of course, Margaret knew Rachel, Callum, and her own sisters, Lily and Beatrice. However, the other three guests were relatively new introductions.
The first of the gentlemen was Lord Lawrence, who seemed a kind sort of fellow.
He wore a drab grey shirt beneath his crisp black suit, which was a little odd for a dinner party, but he smiled so openly at each of the guests when he was introduced that Margaret was quite determined to like him.
She had seen him in their parlor before—he was one of the gentlemen who’d visited Lily early on.
Next was the blond, curly-haired gentleman who had arrived with Callum and had been standing at his elbow ever since.
This, Margaret knew, was Callum’s cousin, Mr. Ellis Buckley.
Margaret couldn’t help but notice that his eyes took on an interested sparkle when he watched Rachel.
Margaret wished she might find an excuse to warn him that her friend was determined not to marry at all if she could help it.
Lord Shaw made the surprising last addition to their party. He looked exceptionally handsome in his dinner finery.
“I’m the replacement,” he said with a little mocking bow when he was introduced. “Lord Cavendish finds himself otherwise engaged.”
“And we’re very happy to have you,” Rachel said pertly, not contradicting him. “It would have been an odd grouping with only seven of us.”
“I rather think it might be odder with me than without, but I am very happy to be included, nonetheless.”
Several people laughed as if he’d been making a joke, but Beatrice narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, and Margaret smiled nervously.
It felt to her that Lord Shaw truthfully would rather not have been involved in whatever the evening held.
Judging by what she’d overheard the previous day in her brother’s study, William was looking to hire the man.
Perhaps Lord Shaw thought his attendance this evening was a mandatory condition of his forthcoming employment.
“Now,” Rachel said. “This isn’t a regular dinner party.”
“Of course not,” Lord Shaw breathed.
Margaret was the closest to him and therefore the only one who heard. She winced and looked up to find Callum studying her from across the room, his head cocked in question. Then his eyes slid from her to Lord Shaw behind her, and his features lost their softness.
“I say, Lord Shaw,” he said. “Come over here and stand with us. For some reason, though we’re evenly divided, I rather feel as if the ladies outnumber us. They are in league together on this evening’s entertainment, make no mistake.”
Lord Shaw gave what Margaret thought was his first real smile of the evening. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace, but of all the gentlemen in this room, you are the only one ever surrounded by enough ladies to feel outnumbered.”
“Not to be contrary,” Rachel said, even as Lord Shaw joined the group of gentlemen, “but only Lord Lawrence and I know what is to transpire this evening.”
“I don’t like surprises very much,” Lord Lawrence admitted. “Especially not when they involve blood.”
“Blood?” Lily exclaimed.
“Oh, not real blood, Miss Lily. Forgive me. Just a slurry of beet juice made to look like blood.”
It was clear that Lord Lawrence thought his explanation sufficiently reassuring, but if anything, Lily looked more alarmed.
She turned to Margaret with wide eyes and whispered, “I despise beets.”
“I have written a mystery that we will solve as a group,” Rachel said crisply, as if such things were commonplace. “Lord Lawrence has generously offered to act as our victim.”
Lily gave a little gasp; Beatrice rolled her eyes at her sister.
“There are several clues that will be important, so please pay attention once we go through to the dining room,” Rachel said. “Now, if you’ll give me and Lord Lawrence several minutes to get the tableau set up, I will collect the rest of you when it’s time to start.”
The two of them exited.
Lily turned to Margaret. “I hope it isn’t too realistic.”
“Why does it matter how realistic it is, as long as you know it’s fake?” Beatrice argued.
“It just”—Lily wrung her fingers together—“I don’t know. It just does.”
Several minutes later, Rachel appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “If you would please follow me to the dining room.”
Callum gallantly escorted Rachel through. Ellis offered his elbow to Lily, and Lord Shaw escorted Beatrice. Margaret followed behind, very curious as to what clues her friend had devised for them.
When Ellis and Lily stepped over the threshold of the dining room, Lily gave a strangled gasp. “Lord Lawrence, you must assure me that you’re all right.”
Even Margaret had to admit that it was a grisly scene.
Lord Lawrence lay on the floor in front of the fireplace.
He’d removed his jacket and waistcoat and wore only the muddy grey shirt—a good thing, as his chest and neck were smeared with what looked very much like real blood.
If Margaret had come across such a spectacle without warning, she might have screamed or fainted or both.
“It is extremely convincing,” Beatrice admitted.
“Lord Lawrence, do assure us you’re all right.” Lily clung to Ellis’s arm as if for real support; her features were a bit pale.
Lord Lawrence squinted open one eye and looked to Rachel.
She sighed. “Very well, you may speak.”
“I’m wonderful, Miss Preston,” he said. “I’ve never been more comfortable at a dinner party, actually. What a treat, to get to lie down and be the center of attention!”
Margaret had to grin. The fellow was a delight—even if the sight of a bloodied corpse speaking was somehow worse than when he was inert.
There was a polite shuffle as they found their assigned places at the table.
Margaret was sandwiched between Callum and Ellis.
Rachel sat at the furthest end of their side, with Beatrice sitting next to Lord Shaw and Lily across from them, with an empty place setting left for Lord Lawrence.
The chair at the head of the table had been removed, allowing the guests an excellent view of the fireplace and the victim in front of it.
“Now,” Rachel said as the servants began to pour the wine. “The victim of the evening is one Mr. Haberdashery, a successful merchant. He was a guest of this countryside manor—”
“Oh, I do love the countryside,” Lily said.
Beatrice shushed her. “No more interruptions, or I have the feeling we’ll be here all night.”
“Indeed, it feels as if it’s nine already,” Lord Shaw said in a droll tone.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him. “Apologies, Rachel. Please, continue.”
“Mr. Haberdashery was a guest of this countryside manor,” Rachel repeated, “but several of the inhabitants have grudges against him. Each of you will find a small piece of parchment beneath your plate. Read it aloud, please. We’ll start with Lily.”
Lily held up her paper and read, “I’m to play Miss Cosette, the governess of the house—” Here she gave a nervous sort of squeak, cleared her throat, and took a sip of water. “Apparently, I held a grudge against the victim because he was trying to have me fired.”
Beatrice frowned. “Why would Mr. Haberdashery try to have Miss Cosette fired?”
“Indeed,” Margaret said. “I think Lily would make an excellent governess.”
Lily motioned to the footman who was pouring the wine as if trying to hurry him along.
“As long as none of her charges ever skinned their knees, that is,” Beatrice added.
“I don’t like blood,” Lily sniffed. “That hardly affects my ability as a governess.”
“Wonderful,” Rachel encouraged. “Excellent job, making your character your own like that. Lord Shaw, you’re next.”
He read, “I’m Mr. Goldbuttons, a wealthy shipping magnate and the owner of the house. I have a grudge against the victim because he cheated me out of payment for a shipment.”
“Then whyever did you invite him to your countryside manor?” Ellis asked, grinning over his glass of wine.
“Heaven knows,” Lord Shaw said. “If I were in possession of a grand countryside manor, I doubt I’d invite anyone.”
“Charming,” Beatrice said sarcastically.
“You’re next, Beatrice,” Rachel said.
She picked up her slip. “I am to play Mrs. Copperbottom, the cook. I don’t like Mr. Haberdashery because he knows my deepest secret—that I’m an escaped convict from the penal colonies.” Beatrice blinked in surprise.
Rachel said, “I will play Mrs. Grumbles, the housekeeper—”
“Mrs. Grumbles?” Margaret gasped with laughter. “Rachel, I must insist if you do ever marry, that you enlist your husband’s help when it comes time to name the children.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You know very well how I feel about that.”
“Please, I must know…why might the housekeeper wish Mr. Haberdashery harm?” Ellis asked with a smile.
“She overheard Mr. Haberdashery acting in a untoward way toward her parlor maid, Matilda.”
At the mention of the name Matilda, Callum caught Margaret’s eye and gave her a smile and the barest hint of a wink. Margaret flushed and shook her head.
“I am to play Mr. Lightrake, another guest of the manor,” Ellis read. “He is often drunk by early afternoon.”
Callum exhaled a pointed laugh.
“Oh, well done,” Ellis said. “I can play that part with aplomb.”
“But can you play the part with a plum?” Beatrice quipped.
“We are going to have plum pudding for dessert,” Rachel said with a solemn nod.
Margaret leaned forward with the force of her sudden suspicion. “Is that the entire reason for the dinner party? Cook’s plum pudding?”
“Do be serious,” Rachel said solemnly, though her cheeks had gone a bit pink. “We need to find out who murdered Mr. Haberdashery.”
“Yes, could you hurry up with it?” Lord Lawrence said. “The floor is quickly losing its charms.”
Margaret read, “I am Matilda—”
“Sounds familiar,” Callum murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
“—and I need this job to support my six children. I’m afraid that Mr. Haberdashery’s actions would get me released from my position.” Margaret blinked. “Six children? How old is this maid?”
“I am Lord Heftpurse,” Callum read. “I gave Mr. Haberdashery a loan to start his business six years ago and he’s never repaid me. Now my estate is in difficulty and I need the money back.”
“That’s everyone.” Rachel passed a stack of parchment just as the servants appeared with the soup.
“Here are all the names and profiles, along with several facts about the case, which I’ll now read.
Mr. Haberdashery was discovered by the servants, but by the time the authorities arrived, the body was already cold.
The magistrate estimates that he was killed several hours prior to being discovered.
A smudge of soot was found on his cheek, as well as on his boots. ”
Rachel lowered her parchment.
“That’s it?” Beatrice asked. “That’s all the information we have to go on?”
“The soup smells excellent,” Lord Lawrence murmured from the floor. “Have they brought a bowl for me, by any chance?”
“Indeed they have,” Margaret leaned over to say. “And they’ve covered it so that it will still be warm when you join us.”
Lily blinked in shock at the suggestion.
“Is it potato soup?” Lord Lawrence murmured. “It smells like potato. Maybe with a lovely sprinkle of chives on top?”
“Let’s start this out, shall we?” Lord Shaw said. “What do you think happened to the poor fellow?”