Page 52 of Beyond the Grave
"Her ladyship's brother. He lives here."
"Oh. I had no idea."
Going by Lincoln's narrowed gaze, neither did he. We both eyed the door, expecting him to walk in at any moment, but no one came. The house felt empty.
"Is Mr. Edgecombe at home?"
"He's in the garden. I'm afraid he's not well enough to receive callers, however."
"But if he's in the garden, surely he's notunwell."
"I'm afraid so, Miss Holloway." He tugged on a bell pull and stood like a soldier with his back to the wall, his hands behind him. I wondered if he didn't want to leave us alone in case we were, in fact, opportunistic thieves. I admired his loyalty.
Lincoln sat in an armchair, looking very much out of place in the feminine room. It made me realize how masculine the Lichfield parlor was. Our furniture was more blocky and sturdy than slender and curvy, and the colors were bolder. The vases, statuettes and other knickknacks were rather pretty here, however I didn't like the paintings of cows. There were an awful lot of them.
A footman entered, took orders from the butler, then left again. Mr. Yardly didn't introduce us.
"Andrew Buchanan disappeared about a week ago," Lincoln informed the butler. "Are you sure you haven't seen him here?"
"I'm sure. Mr. Buchanan hasn't been to Emberly for a long time."
"Have any strangers come to the house recently?"
"No, sir."
"Have there been any disturbances?"
"No, sir."
A few moments ticked by in which I could hear the clock on the mantel ticking. "What about rumors?" Lincoln eventually asked.
"What about them, sir?"
"Have you heard any about Mr. Buchanan?"
"I couldn't say, sir."
"What about the baby Lady Harcourt gave birth to a few years ago?"
The butler's mouth dropped open. A red patch crept up his throat and over his cheeks.
I shook my head at Lincoln, and he arched his brows in return. We weren't going to find out anything useful from this man. He was much too loyal. Or perhaps he simply knew nothing.
The footman returned, after what felt like a painfully long time, and Lincoln asked him the same questions, omitting the final one about the baby. The footman glanced at the butler before answering each time. Intriguing. If he had nothing to hide, then why check with the senior member of staff?
I thought for a moment Lincoln wouldn't let him go after he served us, but he dismissed him with a nod as if he were the lord of Emberly Park. "I wish to speak to the other servants," he told Yardly.
"Their answers will be the same, sir. Mr. Buchanan wasn't here a week ago."
I cleared my throat before Lincoln lost his temper. "Yardly, can you point me in the direction of the powder room, please."
"Certainly, miss."
He gave very precise directions, but even so, I was sure I would get lost in such a large house. It was fortunate that I wasn't looking for the powder room but the service area. I might have better luck getting answers without Yardly there to frighten the other servants into silence with his glare.
After a few minutes, I despaired of finding the service area, however. The doorways must be hidden. I was about to begin tapping walls when I passed through a music room that overlooked a paved terrace and garden. A man sat with his back to the house, gazing out across the low shrubs, potted flowers and lawn. It must be Mr. Edgecombe, Marguerite's brother.
I quietly unlatched the door leading out to the terrace then closed it again behind me, so that my voice couldn't be heard by any servants passing inside. I approached the figure who sat a little slumped in what I'd thought was an ordinary chair, but now saw had wheels attached.
