Page 21 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"Did you learn anything in Faversham which might aid our investigation?" Emily continued brusquely, feeling more than a little flustered by him. He was behaving as though they were intimates, rather than two strangers thrown together by fate and a mystery.
"I did," Chambers agreed, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise at her tone, "If you would care to take a walk with me, I will divulge what I learned."
Lord Chambers proffered his arm, and there was little that Emily could do bar take it. She reluctantly placed a gloved hand on his forearm--which was hard as a rock beneath his soft merino coat--and allowed him to lead the way.
"My mama is in the card room," Emily said, hoping to supply a destination for their walk.
"Avoid card room, understood," the marquess answered, drawing her from the parlour room towards the French doors which led out to the gardens.
"No, that wasn't what I meant," Emily protested, but there was little conviction to her tone and she allowed him lead the way.
Outside, the sky had turned from dusk to dark, though a few faint traces of pink remained on the horizon. It was a clear night, and a sliver of a crescent moon hung low in the sky, small but bright.
"The funeral was a quiet affair," Lord Chambers continued, once they were alone in the quiet air, "However, the reading of the will brought a rather interesting revelation."
"Oh?" Emily held her breath, as she waited for him to reveal what that was.
"Lady Hardthistle left everything to her maid, Ethel. If ever a motive existed for murder, it is the chance of inheriting a large fortune, is it not? And, Ethel did not much seem upset by her mistress' death," the marquess finished with a flourish, then waited for Emily's response.
Itwasunusual for a member of the aristocracy to bequeath their fortune to a servant, Emily internally agreed, but was there perhaps more to it than Lord Chambers imagined?
"While that's very interesting, it does not necessarily mean that Ethel is the guilty party," Emily answered, in an attempt to reason with him, "Lady Hardthistle had no offspring, and, perhaps, Ethel is a distant relative? She was more of a companion to her than a maid, after all."
"How do you explain how unaffected she was by her mistress' death?" Lord Chambers countered.
"You are assuming that Ethellikedher mistress," Emily could not help but laugh, "You may not believe it, my lord, but just because a servant feigns respect for you, it does not actually mean that they feel it."
"Of course they do," Lord Chambers snorted, his confidence that he was adored by all unshaken.
What a difference money made, Emily thought with a smile. The Mifford's own maid, Nora, was not paid enough to conceal how irritating she found her duties--and the people she performed them for--to be. If Mrs Mifford was to suddenly expire, it was doubtful that Nora would shed any tears.
"We shall have to agree to disagree on that score," Emily reasoned, but as she noted the slight gleam of hurt in his eyes, she allowed him one concession, "Though you are correct that the contents of the will has marked Ethel as a suspect--however unlikely."
"You are forgetting that on the night in question," the marquess interrupted, determined to have his say, "That Ethel was nowhere to be found--and Lady Hardthistle only ventured into the gardens to look for her. It's entirely possible that, after a lifetime of service, she decided she could wait no longer, snapped, and strangled her mistress to death."
As Emily pictured the frail maid in her mind, she could not help but allow her disbelief show. There was no way that the reed thin woman had possessed the strength to overthrow the considerably sturdier Lady Hardthistle and then strangle her to death.
She voiced this thought to Lord Chambers, who was momentarily staggered.
"She had an accomplice, then," he replied, after a second's pause.
"Perhaps," Emily agreed, though her teeth were gritted--the marquess was like a dog with a bone over Ethel, "However, I do think that we should remain focused on our other suspect; Sir Cadogan."
In hushed tones, Emily explained that she had seen the squire earlier that day, looking most pleased with himself.
"He said that he'd had some good news," she finished, triumphantly.
In the silence which followed, all that could be heard was the distant sound of the guests from inside the house, while Lord Chambers' thick eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief.
"That's hardly as startling a revelation as my one about Ethel," the marquess finally replied, his bottom lip pouting.
"It's not a competition," she huffed in response, "We are supposed to be working together as partners. I should have guessed that your ego was too large to allow anyone else have an opinion or an idea opposite to your own."
Feeling vexed, by both his attitude and the luscious curve of his bottom lip, Emily spun on the heel of her slipper, determined to stalk away. Having come of age in a house with four other females, Emily knew well how to make a dramatic exit, which adequately portrayed her annoyance, and she stuck her nose in the air and prepared to stomp away.
Lord Chambers, however, had other ideas; he reached out a gloved hand to grab her wrist, and spun her around gently to face him.
"Forgive me."
