Page 88 of Mischief at Marsden Manor
“Laetitia Marsden. If someone is getting rid of Crispin’s old girlfriends, surely his current fiancée is next on the list.”
“Would you like to confess, Miss Darling?” Uncle Harold inquired snidely, and I blinked.
“You thinkI’mkilling St George’s old girlfriends? Why on earth would I do that? I’m the reason he’s engaged to Laetitia now. If anything, you should thank me. Not accuse me of attempted murder.”
“Now, now, Pippa,” Uncle Herbert remonstrated, while Christopher sat back and watched, lips twitching. “No one is accusing you of anything.”
I sniffed. “I should hope not. For one thing, I had no idea that Cecily Fletcher would be here until I arrived yesterday evening. For another, I didn’t know that she was expecting until Crispin told me last night. I don’t think he knew until then, either, at least if the expression on his face was anything to go by. I don’t see how I could have brought a fatal dose of pennyroyal with me to do away with her if I didn’t know any of those things.”
“Is that what happened?” Uncle Herbert inquired.
“So we surmise. There’s some question as to whether the pennyroyal came from Dominic Rivers, seeing as he was a known dope dealer?—”
Uncle Harold made a face, so perhaps he had heard the name before. Grimsby the valet might have dug up Crispin’s connection to Rivers back in the spring, and it might have been in that dossier I read back then. I had mostly paid attention to the plethora of sexual escapades the valet had detailed, I admit, so I couldn’t rightly remember whether that specific detail of Crispin’s dope habit had been mentioned or not.
“Now, see,” Christopher interrupted, “he’s a spanner in the works of your theory, Pippa.”
“Dominic Rivers is?” How?
Christopher nodded. “He’s certainly no old flame of Crispin’s. Not unless my cousin has a bent we don’t know about.”
He smirked, and looked remarkably like the Viscount St George for a moment.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him. “St George is relentlessly heterosexual. No one dallies with as many women as he has done unless he likes them.”
Christopher opened his mouth to continue the banter, but Uncle Herbert clearing his throat brought him back to himself. He flushed. “Sorry, Father.”
“As you should be,” Uncle Herbert said mock-sternly. “Although I’m not the one you ought to apologize to, Kit.”
“What Crispin doesn’t know—” Christopher began cheekily, and then he noticed that Uncle Herbert was indicating the Duke, and he caught on.
“Oh. My mistake.” He flushed again, all the way to his ears, and cleared his throat. “My apologies, Uncle Harold. I was merely making sport. Pippa’s right. Crispin is definitely not queer.”
Uncle Harold nodded, mollified, although he looked a bit uncomfortable even so.
“At any rate,” I said, and took Christopher’s attention off his uncle, “it’s obvious why Dominic Rivers had to die. He brought the pennyroyal. Whoever he gave it to, didn’t want him to be able to spill the beans.”
“So you think it was Rivers’s pennyroyal that killed her?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It can’t be a coincidence that there’s pennyroyal for the picking just down the road, too. Or can it?”
Christopher shrugged. “This is above my head, I’m afraid. I’m for letting Tom figure it out. He’s the one getting paid for it.”
“But it’s interesting,” I protested. “And we should be able to reason it out for ourselves. It’s like an Agatha Christie novel, isn’t it? All of us gathered here, and people dropping like flies. It has to be one of us. Someone who was here yesterday; I’m not accusing you, Uncle Herbert, or Aunt Roz?—”
Or His Grace, the Duke of Sutherland, but I didn’t see the need to point that out.
“Of course not, Pippa,” Uncle Herbert rumbled. “I didn’t know either of the unfortunate young women, or for that matter the young man.”
“In an Agatha Christie novel,” Christopher said, “it’s always the least likely suspect, isn’t it? Who’s the least likely suspect here?”
We both thought about it. It only took me a second, because the answer was obvious.
“You, Christopher. It’s you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Me?”He looked surprised. “Am I really?”
