Page 34 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“I’m sure I have some port somewhere,” Lord Crabb stood and wandered across to his drink cabinet to peer in, “They do say brandy and port will cure any stomach ache.”
“Double the alcohol will cure most ailments,” Rob agreed with a grin, “Don’t worry yourself if you can’t find it, Crabb, I’m already feeling better.”
“I expect the port has gone the way of the numerous other bottles which have disappeared these past few days, namely down Lord Albermay’s gullet…”
The viscount returned to his seat with a wry brow and lifted his glass in a toast to Lord Albermay’s drinking prowess.
Robert took a small sip of his drink, then rested the tumbler on the mahogany end table beside him. Rob wasn’t going to let the topic of Lord Albermay drop with one mere comment.
“Speaking of,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too enthusiastic, “Have your interviews thrown up any interesting sightings of Lord Albermay? Perchance, a chambermaid spotted him with a knife in hand outside his father’s room?”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” Lord Crabb laughed before his expression turned somewhat glum, “I’m afraid that the servants have been both helpful and unhelpful. The footman who closed the house for the night spotted nearly every guest out wandering the halls -even Lord Percival was spotted taking a midnight stroll.”
Rob’s ears perked at the mention of Lord Percival. Perhaps there was life enough in the old dog to have committed murder.
“Unfortunately, he was also spotted by those two harridans, Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling,” Lord Crabb continued with a grimace, “They were keen to insinuate that Lord Percival mighthave been visiting a lady friend and that a man of such morals might also be capable of murder. They didn’t take too kindly to me querying why they had been traipsing about at a late hour; I fear I will never be forgiven.”
The viscount touched a weary hand to his brow; it was clear to Rob that the stress of hosting was almost as tiresome as the stress of investigating Lord Albermay’s murder.
“Aside from the son, have you any other suspects in mind?” Rob ventured, “Someone unexpected? A servant? Or that Mr Lowell chap, perhaps?
Robert’s attempt at nonchalance must have been quite convincing, for the viscount gave an amused bark of laughter at the mention of his name.
“Mr Lowell?” he questioned, with a shake of his dark head, “I highly doubt in the five minutes he was acquainted with Lord Albermay that a feud developed between the pair.”
“You never know,” Rob tried vainly not to sound too hopeful, “Perhaps he is the sort given over to fits of rage, or perhaps he took a shine to Lady Albermay and decided to get rid of her husband?”
“Have you been reading my wife’s Gothic novels to while away the time?” Lord Crabb replied as he stood to refill both their glasses. “I don’t know who’s worse, you or Highfield! He thinks there’s something nefarious about Mr Lowell too - though between us both, it’s that Lady Highfield cast him an admiring glance. As you know, Highfield is not accustomed to competition in the looks department.”
Robert gave an obligatory scoff at Highfield’s jealous ways, whilst hoping that Lord Crabb would not note his pink cheeks. It was not good ton to cast aspersions on a man’s character out of petty jealousy and Rob felt more than a little embarrassed for his behaviour.
“Idle minds are the devil’s playground,” Robert offered by way of apology.
“It’s good to keep an open mind,” the viscount consoled with a shrug. “I wish an unlikely suspect would surface, but I’m afraid that the real killer might be someone we wish it wasn’t.”
“Lady Albermay?” Rob guessed, forlorn. Mr Cartwright must have furnished Lord Crabb with the details of his master’s illness, for the viscount nodded gravely.
“The more I learn, the more that I begin to suspect it was her,” he answered with a sigh, “The only thing that makes me wonder is why she chose here to kill him - and why she used such a blunt instrument. There are many ways a wife could kill her elderly husband without arousing suspicion…”
Silence fell between the men as they both sipped thoughtfully on their drinks. Outside, the sky was beginning to turn dark; daylight was but a fleeting guest during winter months. The snow outside had already started to thaw, and Rob guessed it would not be more than a day or two until they were freed. He felt a sudden sense of urgency to solve the mystery before the killer could escape. Time had seemed endless only yesterday, now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers like sand.
Eudora, too, felt as though she was slipping away from him…
“You’re almost certain it wasn’t Lord Albermay who killed his father?” Rob asked again, his voice strained with hope. He knew that it would crush Eudora to learn that her friend was the culprit of the mystery she had so wished to solve.
“The morning that the murder was discovered, the footman who closed the house found Lord Albermay in the same position that he had left him the night before,” Lord Crabb replied, with a deep sigh, “Namely sprawled unconscious on the couch you are seated on now. I doubt he had the wherewithal to unbutton his breeches, let alone kill his father.”
Lord Crabb heaved a deep sigh and finished the last of his drink.
Now, Rob realised, would be the perfect time to tell his host about the suspicious stains found on Lady Albermay’s dress. Still, for Eudora’s sake, Rob could not bring himself to share this very important piece of evidence.
There’s still a chance it wasn’t Lady Albermay, Rob told himself, though his inner voice sounded rather doubtful.
“I will interview the remaining guests and servants tomorrow,” Lord Crabb finished, before adding with a despondent sigh, “Perhaps one of the maids spotted something we’ve missed?”
On that rather hopeless note, the interview finished. The viscount excused himself to attend to household matters, leaving Rob with little to do except try to while away the long hours until dinner.
Unable to think of an activity diverting enough to distract him from thoughts of Eudora, Rob decided that a nap would have to suffice. It would also be no harm to sleep off the brandy, he thought wryly.
