Page 57 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“I was talking about Charlotte’s murder.”
He swallowed heavily. “Is that all the new so-called evidence you have, Miss Fox?”
“You both lied when you said you didn’t recognize the Campbells’ butler at dinner.”
The accusation resulted in more noises of protest. “How dare you call us liars!”
I showed him the photograph that I carried under my arm. I pointed to Harding, the groom. “These servants worked here in 1877, a year before Charlotte’s murder. This photograph sits on the wall in the staff parlor along with several others taken over the years, right outside in the courtyard here. I showed it to the Campbells’ staff, and they recognized Mr. Hardy.”
Lady Whitchurch nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked to her husband.
Lord Whitchurch drew in a deep breath. “That doesn’t meanwerecognized him. This fellow is clean-shaven, but the Campbells’ butler had a beard.”
“Your denials do you no favors,” Harry said.
Lord Whitchurch’s nostrils flared.
“He’s right, Arthur,” Lady Whitchurch murmured. “Tell them the truth.”
Her husband studied the carpet at his feet for a moment, before meeting my gaze. “Yes, we recognized the butler. We hadn’t seen him in years. I was curious as to why he changed his profession from groom to butler so I learned where he liked to drink and found him there. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
His wife’s eyes fluttered closed and her fingers wrung together in her lap.
“It seems you don’t want to tell us the entire truth,” I said, “so I’ll tell you what we suspect happened. The groom you knew as Harding helped your brother escape on the night Charlotte was murdered.” I waited for his lordship to interject, but he didn’t say a word. I suspected he was conceding that he couldn’t win. “Harding also disappeared that night, something which you not only knew, but suspectedwhy. When you saw him again after all this time, you worried that he’d tell the police what he knew, so you killed him.”
“That’s a lie! I never touched the fellow. Why would I? The police already assume Rupert murdered the girl, so it wouldn’t matter if Harding went to them now with his story. What does killing him achieve?”
“It stops him from revealing where Rupert is hiding. Or perhaps his story differs from the official version.”
Lady Whitchurch blinked at me. “What do you mean?”
“She means that someoneelsekilled the maid, not Rupert,” Lord Whitchurch said. “Which is absurd.” Lady Whitchurch went very still. “I think she’s trying to blame me for the murder. Am I right, Miss Fox?”
“Areyou to blame?”
Lord Whitchurch snorted. “I knew you had nothing.”
“You told us you were with your brother’s fiancée—”
“Don’t call her that,” he spat.
Lady Whitchurch pressed her fingers to her trembling lips.
“You claimed you were with her until midnight,” I went on. “But one of the maids saw you just before dawn and you were still fully clothed.”
“She’s lying,” he growled.
“I put it to you that it wasn’t Rupert who murdered Charlotte. He was too drunk. In fact, he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember what happened and believed you when you accused him. That’s why he fled and hasn’t returned—he thinks he murdered her. But Harding, the groom, knew the truth. Perhaps he noticed the lack of blood on Rupert’s clothes when he helped him flee. I don’t know, and nor do I know whether it was you or your father who really killed Charlotte, but I am almost certainyoukilled Hardy to keep him quiet.”
“Almost certain?” He barked a humorless laugh. “Harding could have gone to the police a long time ago or extorted money from us if he so wished. I had no reason to murder him after all this time, did I?”
“Perhaps hehasbeen blackmailing you, but you couldn’t find him before you saw him that night at the Campbells’. Perhaps you left him the money in secret and he has been hiding from you because he feared what would happen if you confronted him.”
“There are too many guesses in your theory, Miss Fox. The police will laugh you out of Scotland Yard if you take your so-called evidence to them.”
Lady Whitchurch suddenly came to life. “Arthur was with meallnight on the night of Charlotte’s murder.” Husband and wife looked at one another and something passed between them. Lord Whitchurch gave a slight nod, barely perceptible, and she continued. “He didn’t want to tell you because of the scandal, but he didn’t leave at midnight like he says. He was with me until a little before dawn. That’s why the maid saw him in his clothes.”
Both looked at me, triumphant.
