Page 68 of Blackmail at Beckwith Place
“Yes,” Sammy said, diverted, “I heard she had a baby. Where’s the brat?”
“In the house,” Christopher said tightly. “My mother’s minding her.”
Sammy smirked, but before he had the opportunity to say whatever foul thing had come to his mind, I cut him off. “Someone had to mind her, you brainless clod. Her mother collapsed in a heap on the grass yesterday and was removed to the infirmary. Someone had to take care of the baby, and it’s my aunt’s house, so who else was going to do it?”
“Doctor’s wife?” Sammy suggested, which I suppose was a reasonably good suggestion, everything considered.
“Aunt Roz thought the baby was better off here,” I said stiffly.
Sammy made a humming noise. “Are you sure your aunt didn’t just?—”
“Why don’t you simply ask her?” Christopher cut in, exasperated. “If you’re not going to cover the body, or do anything else useful out here, let’s just go inside and you can ask my mother exactly what she was thinking.”
Sammy nodded. “Why don’t we just do that?”
He grabbed my upper arm, and then he grabbed Christopher’s, and then he proceeded to frog-march us both to the boot room door. At that point he had to let go, since we couldn’t all fit through the opening at the same time. The same thing was true for the boot room itself, and the hallway, but once we arrived in the foyer, he made a point of taking us both by the arm again as he pushed us ahead of him into the sitting room.
“Kit!” Uncle Herbert jumped to his feet.
This caused Aunt Roz to turn from the window, where she’d been standing watching the road. “Pippa? What on earth is going on?” Her eyes dropped. “Are those my gardening gloves?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I held them out. “We wanted a look inside the motorcars in the driveway, and we thought it better not to add any fingerprints.”
Aunt Roz nodded, as if this made perfect sense. She put the gloves down on the nearest table and turned her attention to Sammy. “Constable Entwistle.”
Sammy pulled his gaze from little Bess, who was staring at him with those big, blue Astley eyes. “My lady.”
“Are you arresting my son and niece?”
Sammy let go of Christopher and me. “Not at this time, my lady. I caught them snooping around in the carriage house.”
“We didn’t snoop,” I said irritably, twitching my sleeve back into place. “We stood inside the carriage house doors looking around. We didn’t even touch anything.”
“Be that as it may…”
“It is not against the law to stand inside one’s own carriage house! And it’s not like you’re doing anything to figure out who murdered Abigail anyway?—”
“Darling,” Crispin said, cutting me off mid-rant just as I was getting to the expletives. I turned to him, and he put a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
My mouth dropped open as Sammy looked from me to him and back. “What’s this, then?”
“She doesn’t always know when to shut up,” Crispin explained, and I scowled at him.
“Very funny, St George. If anyone doesn’t know when to shut up, it’s you. You actually shushed me?”
“I’m sitting here quietly letting the constable do his job,” Crispin sniffed haughtily, “while you’re carrying on like a fish-woman. You need to pipe down so Constable Entwistle can get on with it.”
I opened my mouth to blister him with my next retort, but Aunt Roz got in first. “Crispin is right, Pippa. Do take a seat and be quiet so we can figure this out.”
She eyed me, steadily, while I dug my fingernails into my palms until I managed an, “Yes, Aunt Roz.” And then I leveled Crispin a look that ought by rights to have killed him on the spot. He smirked.
“You too, Christopher,” Aunt Roz added.
“Yes, Mother.” Christopher dropped onto the Chesterfield next to Francis and Constance, where he had sat earlier. He left enough room for me, but I pretended I didn’t notice. Instead, I wandered over and perched myself on the other arm of Crispin’s chair, so he had Laetitia on one side and me on the other. His eyes widened at my approach, while hers narrowed.
Sammy watched until I was situated, and then he opened his mouth. “Is there some reason you don’t want the lady to speak, Lord St George? Something you don’t want her to say, perhaps?”
Crispin blinked. I guess he hadn’t thought about the fact that him shushing me made it look like he had something to hide. It was my turn to smirk.
