Page 47 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“No, my lord,” Sarah rolled her eyes as she pulled him away from the stall. “Mrs Vickery! We didn’t include her on the first list of suspects for we didn’t know she had such a good aim.”
His open mouthed surprise let Sarah know that he understood the implications of this revelation.
“But Mrs Vickery was at the assembly last night,” he frowned.
“She left to water some night-blooming cereus,” Sarah answered, surprised at herself for recalling the name.
“Mr Leek didn’t have any in his collection,” Lord Deverell interrupted, his expression now one of urgency. “He spoke to me at length about his desire for one and how annoyed he was that the funds from the assembly would not be put toward purchasing one for his collection.”
So Mrs Vickery had lied not once, but twice!
“What reason would she have had for shooting Mr Hardwick?” the earl urgently questioned her.
“To protect Long Acres,” Sarah was certain.
“If she was willing to shoot Mr Hardwick to protect Long Acres, then why would she then go on to shoot the man who cared for it the most?” Lord Deverell questioned, throwing his hands up with confusion.
Sarah thought on the previous night, of Mrs Vickery’s stiff rigid posture as she had watched the dancers at the assembly. Her expression of disdain as she declared that assemblies were dens of iniquity where people danced with other people’s husbands. Mrs Canards cruel words sprang to mind; that Mrs Vickery thought herself the wife and mistress of Long Acres.
“Love,” the answer came to Sarah at once. “She shot Mr Hardwick because she loved Mr Leek and he threatened all they had built together. Then, when she saw Mr Leek dancing with Mrs Fawkes at the assembly, she must have realised that they hadn’t built anything together at all.”
As the idea tripped off her tongue, Sarah wondered if it sounded too far-fetched. But Lord Deverell nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
“It’s worthy of the Bloody Register,” he said, with faint surprise.
“I’ll take that as high praise from you,” she answered, unable to resist the urge to tease him even during a serious moment.
“I’ll never live that down,” the earl murmured, though he looked rather pleased at the intimacy of it all. His expression then turned serious, as he scanned the crowd.
“Lord Crabb has gone to Hill House, to speak with Mrs Fawkes,” he said, “If I leave now, I might catch him on his return. We can go to Long Acres together to confront Mrs Vickery.”
“Oh, be careful,” Sarah pleaded, shocked by the piercing worry his words brought.
“I will call in to Northcott Manor to collect my pistol,” he assured her.
Before she could respond, he reached up and brushed a stray curl from her brow. The gesture was so casually affectionate that Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. His fingers lingered for the briefest moment, and when he met her gaze, his grey eyes were solemn.
“I promise I’ll be careful,” he said softly.
With a look of regret, he allowed his hand fall from her hair. As he strode away, Sarah watched him depart with a growing sense of worry.
The murder investigation had always felt so abstract; now that it seemed certain Mrs Vickery was the culprit, the danger of it felt more real. A woman who could shoot two men dead was a threat to everyone—even two strapping lords.
Sarah turned her head wildly, seeking out Mr Marrowbone. Though the constable was idle and workshy, he did constitute an extra pair of hands. And to the best of Sarah’s knowledge he did own a shotgun, unless he had traded it for a pint.
Her eyes scanned the moving crowds but found no sight of the constable. Instead, she spotted Anne, standing with Nora and their friend Bess, who worked at Long Acres. With a brisk stride, Sarah made her way over, hoping that Bess might have some useful scrap of information.
“Bess,” she said, nodding a greeting the other girls, “Have you just come from Long Acres? How was Mrs Vickery?”
Bess, usually cheerful and bright gave a dark scowl.
“She sent me off just after the two lordships left,” she said. “Told me she’d have my final wages sent over by the solicitor. She said she wanted to pack and close up the house before catching the stage to Bath and didn’t need my help.”
“Bath?” Sarah echoed, startled.
“To see her sister, she said,” Beth confirmed. “ Though I didn’t know she had one. If you ask me she doesn’t know what to do in the house, now she doesn’t have Mr Leek to moon over.”
Sarah’s shock was obviously writ across her face, for Bess misinterpreted it and added a hasty, “Rest his soul, of course.”
