Page 49 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
"She is not at home," he finally stated, his tone far less polite than before, "She goes out walking in the morning, sometimes for hours. She's already upset enough by all this business, Crabb; I won't have you upsetting her further."
Ivo was about to offer a blunt retort, but he felt a tug on his sleeve. Miss Mifford glanced up at him, her eyes wide as she tried to silently communicate what she was thinking. Not being a mind reader, the only thing Ivo could think to interpret from her gesture was that she had something stuck in her eye, but he guessed that perhaps she had something more important than that to say.
"Perhaps we shall return later, Sir Charles," Ivo answered, as the tugging on his sleeve became more urgent, "Thank you for your time."
Ivo turned on his heel and retreated toward the carriage with Miss Mifford tailing him. Once they were back inside and had closed the door, she rushed to speak her mind.
"At the Ladies' Society meetings, Sarah told me that Prunella goes out walking every day and comes back more upset than when she left—I do not think she is taking the air for her constitution, my lord, I think she is meeting with Mr Adonis."
"That's all very well," Ivo grumbled in response, a little irritated that she had returned to addressing him so formally, "But where might they be meeting? They could be anywhere."
"Probably not," came the tart reply, for Miss Mifford had not missed his tone, "Prunella is not the type of girl to don practical boots, nor is she the sort who would expose herself to the elements. Wherever she is, I can guarantee you that it is close and well sheltered."
Miss Mifford furrowed her brow as she tried to think of where Prunella and Mr Adonis might be—if, indeed, they were together—while Mrs Hardbottle glanced between she and Ivo, perplexed. The poor housekeeper had found herself in the middle of a plot that no one had explained to her and was trying to disguise her abject confusion.
"The Needle's Eye Folly!" Miss Mifford exclaimed, turning to Ivo with excitement, "It lies half a mile behind Hillside House. I'm sure that's where they'll be. Stop the carriage."
Miss Mifford did not wait for Ivo to do her bidding, instead she bashed repeatedly on the roof of the carriage until the driver came to a juddering stop. They had barely come to a halt before she had the door open and was scrambling down unassisted.
Ivo was momentarily blindsided by her speed and remained seated, until Mrs Hardbottle gave him an almighty prod.
"Go after her," the housekeeper clucked, "Though I shan't be following; I was asked to chaperone, not go haring across the countryside in my best dress."
Ivo nodded dumbly and leapt from his seat; Miss Mifford had only a slight head-start on him, and he soon caught up with her.
"Where is it that you are taking me again?" he asked, his breath coming in pants as he matched her breakneck pace.
"Needle's Eye," she answered, "It's a large archway, built in the shape of a pyramid. Prunella's great-grandfather is said to have built it in order to win a bet; he was boasting about his prowess as a whip in some club, and claimed he could drive a carriage and four through the eye of a needle. When someone challenged him, he had the folly built to prove it. Men!"
The last word was uttered with a snort of derision, indicating Miss Mifford's feelings of distaste toward the whole venture. Ivo made sympathetic noises in return, but inwardly he felt a pang of admiration toward the late squire, which led him to conclude that Miss Mifford was definitely correct to hold the male sex in such disregard.
They continued on their journey in silence, both now breathless as they trampled across fields made muddy by winter rain. Ivo's boots were caked with dirt and he doubted that Newman would be best pleased with him, but as the folly came into view, Ivo concluded that Miss Mifford had been correct in assuming that this was where the pair might meet.
The folly stood about twenty feet high; made of sandstone, it was shaped like a pyramid and topped with an ornamental urn. An ogee arch ran through the whole structure, wide enough to drive a carriage and four through it, and deep enough to offer shelter from the rain.
As Ivo and Miss Mifford approached, they heard the sound of voices coming from within. Inside his chest, Ivo's heart began to race with excitement. This was it; they had finally solved the mystery!
Any congratulations were soon put on hold, however, when a shrill scream ripped through the air.
"Prunella!" Miss Mifford exclaimed, and before Ivo could stop her, she took off, racing toward danger.
Jane did not stop to think; the second she heard Prunella's cry ring out through the frigid, winter air, her feet began to move of their own volition.
She was running, racing as fast as she could across the soggy, water-clogged heath. The hem of her skirts was heavy with mud, her toes within her boots were like ice, but still she ran.
She was not afraid, she did not even think to be afraid, for she knew that Lord Crabb was but one step behind her.
As Jane approached the archway, she caught sight of two figures within—Prunella and Mr Adonis. Her relief at having found them both was soon replaced by horror, as she realised that Mr Adonis had Prunella pinned against the wall, his two gloved hands encased around her white throat.
"Get off her," Jane howled, rushing forward to grab at his arm.
The arm that she grabbed was hard as rock and the gardener threw her off as though she was nothing more than an irritating fly. Jane fell heavily to the ground, the impact jarring her senses. As she struggled to regain her footing, Lord Crabb appeared; tall, strong, and brandishing a pistol.
She had only a moment to admire his preparedness—for the idea to bring a weapon had not crossed her mind—before he spoke.
"Release her, Adonis," Lord Crabb bellowed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling, "You are already guilty of one murder, do not add a second to the list of your crimes."
Mr Adonis stilled as he heard the sound of Lord Crabb's pistol click. He let go of Prunella—who fell to the ground, gasping painfully for breath—and turned his handsome face toward his captor.
