Page 47 of Evidence of Evil
Fortunately, he retained enough sense to behave with civility, although when he ferried tea from his wife to the other ladies, he made sure his fingers touched Mrs. Grey’s soft, slender hand. He wanted to growl.
Apparently undisturbed, Mrs. Grey met his gaze boldly, with a murmur of thanks, and looked beyond him to continue her conversation with Annabelle.
Darby collected his own tea and sat beside his wife, from where he did his best to catch Mrs. Grey’s eye.
“We came really to pay our condolences for the loss of your poor cousin,” Lady Maule said. “Such a sad and shocking loss. All the more so for us, since she was found in our lake.”
At last Mrs. Grey’s eyes met his.
“Yes, it has been shock for all of us who knew her,” Annabelle said. “Has it not, Leighton?”
“A most terrible shock,” he managed, while retaining Mrs. Grey’s gaze. “She was still so young and vital, a sad loss to all her family and friends. Annabelle and I are devastated.”
Mrs. Grey released his gaze and turned her own upon Annabelle. “Of course, I never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Niall, but I do offer my sincere sympathies. And those of my husband. Were you and Miss Niall close friends?”
“We were most cordial,” Annabelle said. “Although she was several years younger than I, so we were never terribly close. Sadly, we never will be now.”
Lady Maule said, “You must take comfort in your own kindness to her and her family on their return to India. The evening of your ball was so enjoyable. Frances spoke of it often to me.”
Darby almost smiled again as he remembered that night. But he had fresh fish to fry now in the delectable person of Mrs. Grey.
“Thank you,” Annabelle said. “I shall remember her as she was that night.”
“As shall I,” Darby said piously. Mrs. Grey’s eyes were upon him once more, large, mysterious eyes of alluring beauty. He would wager everything he had that she knew well how to please a man.
“It is even more shocking,” she said sadly, “that detectives from London are now investigating her death as murder.”
“I had heard something of the sort,” Annabelle said. “In fact, they called here just the other day. Leighton sent them away very sharply, I can tell you.”
“Why?” Mrs. Grey asked unexpectedly.
Annabelle blinked. “We can’t havepolicemenin our house, asking impertinent questions, implying we somehow know things about poor Frances’s death.”
“I’m afraid you have Colonel Niall to thank for that,” Mrs. Grey said. “It was on his account that Sir Humphrey asked for Scotland Yard’s help. After the colonel’s accusations against Elizabeth, Sir Humphrey could not be considered impartial in his investigations.”
“We have to apologize for our cousin’s baseless claims,” Darby said quickly. “Poor old fellow is in pieces after his daughter’s death. Quite knocked him for a loop, did it not, Annabelle?”
“Quite,” Annabelle agreed, as she always did. “And I cannot think much of the officers they sent. Common little men who know nothing about respectable people.”
“Did they ask you if Frances had any enemies?” Mrs. Grey asked.
“They did! Leighton told them in no uncertain terms that of course she did not. They then began to imply that poor Frances was no better than she should be, going off for assignations behind her father’s back! I mean, how dare they? The night she died, she went to seeyou, Lady Maule, which is hardly an assignation.”
“No, but she left me and never got as far as home. Somewhere between our lake and Fairfield Grange, she died. Before someone put her body in the lake. We think,” Lady Maule finished almost apologetically.
They batted the subject around a little more, but Darby barely listened. It didn’t matter what Mrs. Grey said—it was the movement of her luscious mouth that held his attention.
When, after the polite half-hour of a morning call, the ladies stood to depart, Darby rose with them. So did Annabelle.
“Allow us to see to your carriage,” she said, taking Lady Maule’s arm, bless her. She was, he supposed, making up for her cousin the colonel’s ridiculous accusations against the woman by showing her personal support.
Which worked very well for Darby himself, who had no choice but to walk with the delectable Mrs. Grey. She even took his proffered arm on the stairs. And while they waited on the front terrace for the carriage to be brought round, she displayed no objection to moving a few more steps away from his wife, who was enjoying a serious tête-à-tête with Lady Maule.
“I feel so bad for Elizabeth with such a vile accusation hanging over her,” Mrs. Grey said. “Is there anything you can tell me that would help her?”
Darby tried to look sympathetic. “Such as what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How well did you know Miss Niall, sir?”
