Page 82 of Scandalous Heiress
Chapter 13
Julian, Pierce, Freddie, Victor and Phillip Leland climbed down from the Seton town coach minutes later.Lord Ware had volunteered to remain at the Seton house to provide a cool head for the ladies while the men went to Elanna.
They took the front steps up to the front door.
Julian banged the knocker time and time again.“Let me talk to her first.”
Pierce was white as a ghost.“I’ll check Carbury.”
Leland stood limp against the door frame.“He’s gone.”
The four others mutely regarded him.
Victor had encountered a similar death in Shanghai last year when the wife of a Germantai-panhad died accidentally.Preserving the scene of the crime was helpful in the inquest.And there would be one here, whether Leland had pushed Carbury or the man had fallen accidentally.“Don’t touch anything.Don’t move the body.We need to call the constable as soon as possible.”
A distraught and anxious butler answered the door.
“Maxwell,” Julian said to the little man.“Let us in.Where’s Lady Carbury?”
“Parlor.”He pointed a shaking finger toward the far door.“Back parlor, yes, yes, Your Grace.She’s…she’s not well.Not well.”
Julian swept past him.But within two steps he balked.
Victor and Pierce were right beside him, Freddie behind.There before them splayed on the rose and white marble tiles was the body of a man, contorted, legs at odd angles, his head bloodied, his mouth open in grotesque death.
Victor squeezed shut his eyes.No doubt here.This man was dead.From his position and his injuries, he’d fallen down the circular steps.Marble, all of them.No runner covering them.Nothing to break his descent.Or soften the blows.
Without his gaze glued to Carbury, Julian said, “Someone check the servants.See who’s here now.Then, too.”
“I’ll do it.”Freddie nodded to the butler.“Show me the way below stairs, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Off they went.
Pierce was bending over the body.“Broken legs.Gashed his head.Broke a few teeth.”And beneath his breath he murmured, “Bastard.”
Victor surveyed the scene.A white lace handkerchief lay on the edge of the top most step.And something else, small, white and glistening.A few of them.Pearls?
“He was a tyrant,” Pierce spat.“A bully.She hated him.From the first minute they were engaged.”
Victor licked his lips.Still.Not a way for anyone to die.
Leland had found his way to a chair by the door to the porter’s closet.“He beat her.”
“What?” Pierce glared at him.
“You didn’t know,” Leland bit off.“No one did.She never told anyone but me.He would tie her up.Thrash her.”
Pierce cursed.“Why the hell didn’t she divorce him?”
“How?”Leland asked, his nostrils flaring in contempt.“A woman can’t get a decree.Not for that.Not for anything.”
But a man could acquire one for a wife’s adultery.‘Criminal conversation’ required a trial and legal decree.But the newspapers got hold of the story before any decree came down.Victor’s pulse quickened and he gazed around the hall.He could not erase the vision of his wife telling him he could not leave her.Could not divorce her.“You wouldn’t want your precious family name sullied.Your parents would hate you.”
Victor tore himself from the past.The ugly, unchangeable past.
A missing piece of this puzzle niggled at him.
