Page 11 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
The crowd at once fell into frenzied whispers, and Freddie briefly closed his eyes, for he realised that his control had been lost. They flew open again when a female voice spoke up.
"I know who killed Lady Hardthistle," Lady Francesca called, wrinkling her upturned nose in disgust, "It was her!"
Along with everyone else, Freddie glanced in the direction that the young woman was pointing in, and he bit back a groan as he saw just who it was that Lady Francesca was accusing.
Her finger of blame was pointed at none other than Miss Mifford.
Chapter Three
If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole, Emily thought, as Lady Francesca pointed an accusing finger her way.
The crowd had fallen silent, all staring as one with a mixture of horror and fascination, at Emily, who stood slightly apart from their midst. She had never felt more alone in her life, and her eyes sought out her family but she could not spot them amongst the swarm of people.
This can't possibly get any worse, Emily thought, as anxiety bubbled in her stomach.
But, of course, it could.
"I overheard Miss Mifford arguing with Lady Hardthistle mere minutes ago," Lady Francesca continued, her high voice carrying on the night air, "She threatened her, she said that soon, Lady Hardthistle would suffer the consequences of her unkindness. She meant to murder her!"
As the crowd fell into frenzied whispers, Emily found that she could not entirely blame Lady Francesca for her supposition. Emily had, indeed, said those very words to the baroness, but the consequences that Emily had imagined Lady Hardthistle suffering had been spiritual rather than physical. Well, perhaps, not only spiritual; she had also hoped that the odious woman might ingest a bad egg and spend a week confined to the water-closet, but now really wasn't the time to sharethat.
The crowd continued to whisper and murmur to each other, but this reaction evidently was not enough for Lady Francesca, who glanced around with visible annoyance.
"She's a murderer!" the young woman cried again, this time much louder and with a definite note of hysteria to her tone.
"That's enough."
Lord Chambers' voice cracked like a whip, silencing the crowd completely. The marquess glowered at Lady Francesca, an act which left Emily with a rather giddy feeling in her stomach.
He radiated strength and power, but now was really not the time to feel smitten, Emily chastised herself. A woman lay dead on the ground.
"You cannot silence me," Lady Francesca retorted, evidently not as taken by the marquess' display of masculine authority as Emily was, "She's a murderer. Miss Mifford is a murderer!"
"He said," another voice boomed, "That's enough. Someone take Lady Francesca inside; she's hysterical. In fact, everyone inside--NOW."
Emily breathed a sigh of relief as Northcott came striding forward, tailed by Mary. The duke stood head and shoulders above everyone else--apart from Lord Chambers--and he glared down imperiously at the crowd. He exuded ducal authority and power, and Emily noted that Mary's cheeks were rather pink as she watched her husband take command of the situation.
Under Northcott's orders, the crowd at last began to disperse, though several people remained; Jane and Ivo, who stood beside a jibbering Mrs Mifford and a yawning Eudora, the marquess, Ethel, and Lord and Lady Albermay.
The latter made an odd coupling; the elderly Lord Albermay's eyes were half-closed, as though he was indulging in a brief nap, while his wife--all flaming hair and buxom curves--near vibrated with excitement.
"How can anyone think Miss Mifford a murderer?" Lady Albermay commented, in her strange accent, "Why, look at those arms! She's so scrawny. There's no way she could strangle a woman to death withthosechicken arms."
Emily was not entirely certain if she was being defended or insulted, but she decided to settle on the former and offered Lady Albermay a grateful smile.
"We shall have to summon the runners," Lord Chambers stated, ignoring Lady Albermay's unhelpful contribution, to which Northcott nodded in agreement.
"I'll send one of the footmen," Lady Albermay offered, keen to be involved, "And perhaps another one to come take my husband inside; he's quite overcome with the excitement of it all."
On cue, Lord Albermay gave a loud snore, which confirmed that he was indeed indulging in an upright nap--quite the feat, Emily thought with admiration. Lady Albermay disappeared into the house to fetch the footmen, and once she was out of earshot, Mary stepped forward.
"Now, Ethel," Mary said, all business, "You must tell us what happened and how you came to find Lady Hardthistle."
"I think that is a question we might leave to the runners," Lord Chambers interjected, with a confused glance at the duchess. It was not usual for a lady, let alone one of such high rank, to indulge in such a menial task as interrogating a servant--especially over something as gruesome as a murder.
Mary, who was something of a veteran of murder investigations--having solved one before, in Plumpton--scowled at the marquess, but her husband intervened.
"He's right, dear," Northcott soothed, "There is no need to involve yourself this time; the runners are far more capable of solving this mystery than Mr Marrowbone."
