Page 87 of Blackmail at Beckwith Place
I asked it hopefully, but I wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. “We have to be called in by the Chief Constable, and your Constable Entwistle doesn’t seem to think that’s necessary.”
“He’s notmyConstable Entwistle,” I said; that was all I needed, for someone other than St George to latch onto that fallacy, “and besides, he probably thinks it’s going to be easy. I’m sure he’s just looking for a reason to arrest Francis.”
“Why Francis?”
That necessitated an explanation which included Robbie, who had been Tom’s best friend during their years at Eton, before they were both sent to France and Robbie didn’t come back.
At the end of it, Tom nodded understanding, but said, “I thought you told me Francis has an alibi.”
“He does! He was thoroughly spiflicated, for one thing. Absolutely blotto. I’m sure, if he’d tried to hit someone over the head in that condition, he wouldn’t have known which head to aim for.”
Tom chuckled, and I added, “Constance spent the night with him. They both ended up in the library. She hadn’t had anything to drink—she never drinks much—and she spent the night in a chair. She would have heard him get up if he tried to leave.”
“Not Francis, then. Who else does he suspect?”
I had no idea who Sammy suspected, or whether he suspected anyone at all, or perhaps he was just busy building a case against the person he most wanted to arrest. “I don’t see who it could be,” I told Tom honestly. “Christopher and Crispin spent the night together. In the same room, I mean. And while they might lie for one another, I don’t think either of them is capable of committing murder.”
Or at least not this murder.
“I slept alone,” I added. “So did Laetitia Marsden. Constance was supposed to be in with her, or she was supposed to be in Constance’s room, but Constance stayed in the library with Francis, as I said, so Laetitia got the room to herself.”
“Shades of the Dower House situation,” Tom commented.
I nodded. “Geoffrey Marsden also slept alone, and so did Uncle Harold. Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert shared, of course, and so did the Countess and Earl of Marsden. I slept alone.”
“No one else on the premises?”
I shook my head. “Not overnight. Aunt Roz runs the house with very little help. Cook lives in the village, and Hughes ended up above the pub with Wilkins, I think.”
“Your late aunt’s maid from Sutherland Hall, you mean? She’s here?”
I nodded. “She came here with the party from Sutherland Hall yesterday. And I suppose I ought to tell you…”
I hesitated, wondering whether I truly ought, or whether I just felt like I should. Tom wasn’t in charge of the case, although I personally thought he stood a much better chance of solving it than Sammy Entwistle did. He wasn’t biased, for one thing. Or at least if he was biased, it was in our favor.
On the other hand, I had told Uncle Herbert I wouldn’t talk about it. But surely I could mention Hughes’s blackmail without going into the reasons for it? If Tom had to solve the case, surely he needed to know about that. And it was a criminal offense, wasn’t it?
“I overheard her blackmailing my uncle,” I said.
“The Duke?”
I shook my head, and then tilted it curiously. “Does Uncle Harold have something he can be blackmailed over?”
Tom didn’t answer beyond an arched eyebrow, and I made a face. “It was Uncle Herbert. They were in the study talking earlier, and they didn’t hear me come down the hallway. And it was over something that happened ages ago. Before Christopher was born. And before Hughes arrived from Dorset to work for Aunt Charlotte. Apparently Lydia Morrison told her.”
“Who’s Lydia Morrison?”
I explained who Lydia Morrison was, and Tom nodded. “I already know what Hughes was holding over your uncle’s head. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I said grumpily. “I just wondered… You know about the child, I assume? Or children? Who they are? Or ended up being?”
Tom didn’t answer, just gave me another inscrutable look, and I sighed. “Just answer this. Abigail Dole. She wasn’t Uncle Herbert’s daughter, was she?”
Tom looked at me. After a moment, a corner of his mouth turned up. “No. She wasn’t.”
I nodded. “So whoever the baby’s father was… by the way, you should go inside and see little Bess. Aunt Roz has been taking care of her since yesterday afternoon. There’s really no denying that she’s a Sutherland. And if Abigail wasn’t one, then one of the men in the family must be responsible.”
“I thought you’d always assumed that.”
