Page 95 of Mischief at Marsden Manor
“Neither of them mentioned any of this earlier,” Tom said and made a note. “Lady Serena would have known Mr. Rivers too, I assume?”
“They danced together last night,” I said, “while Bilge danced with Cecily.”
“Did anyone else dance with anyone in particular?”
“I mostly danced with Wolfgang,” I said, “because I didn’t think anyone else would do so. Francis was extremely rude, and so, frankly, was Bilge Fortescue. Christopher spent his time trying to talk Francis out of his sulk, and I don’t think he and Constance danced at all…”
Christopher shook his head. “Connie didn’t drink, either. Nellie brought her a cup of tea.”
“That’s right.” I nodded. “I saw that. Although Francis more than made up for it.”
He made a face. “And how. At any rate, I was forced into service at one point. Francis didn’t dance, Wolfgang only danced with Pippa, Crispin only danced with Laetitia—there was a dearth of partners on the floor.”
“Who did Lord Geoffrey dance with?”
Christopher and I exchanged a look. “Not me,” I said, “although I think he danced with everyone else. Cecily looked particularly uncomfortable about it, I noticed.”
We contemplated that thought in silence for a moment, before Tom said, “So that was last night. Nothing else happened of note?”
Christopher and I looked at one another. “Not aside from Natterdorff’s presence making a stir,” Christopher said, “and the ill-will that followed.”
Tom nodded. “It’s understandable. And as long as it wasn’t Natterdorff who died, it likely doesn’t have anything to do with anything.”
Likely not.
“You already know about Cecily and the cup of tea,” I said. “I don’t know who visited her room other than Dominic Rivers and St George. I saw Crispin leave her bedchamber, so I know that he was in there, but I can’t actually confirm that Rivers was.”
“Nellie said he was,” Tom said, “although there’s only Nellie’s word for that, of course. His roommate, Mr. Fish, was out with Miss Barnsley. They alibi one another. Not that anyone needs one, really.”
No, not for last night.
“What about this afternoon, when Rivers was killed? Can anyone alibi anyone else for that time?”
“You two were with Constable Collins and St George on the lawn,” Tom recited. “Francis and Constance were together. The Earl and Countess of Marsden were together. Lady Laetitia was sulking in her room?—”
Because Crispin had escaped her, no doubt. “Surely she didn’t say that?”
“Of course not. It was my own interpretation.” Tom flipped a page. “The Fortescues were together in their room.”
“And could be lying for one another. They’re married, so they might lie if one of them had committed murder.”
Unless Serena saw a chance to land Bilge with the murder and send him to prison while she kept the title and money, perhaps. If he had cheated on her with Cecily, she might consider it poetic justice.
“Bilge spent some time in France,” Tom said, “so he, at least, is no stranger to violence.”
“He called his wife coldblooded in the breakfast room this morning,” I answered.
Christopher nodded. “He said she was a crack shot, as well.”
“It isn’t likely to have been either of them in the woods, then. A crack shot wouldn’t have missed.”
Tom made a notation. “To continue, Geoffrey says he was with Violet this afternoon, but of course she can’t confirm that. Olivia Barnsley and Reginald Fish were together again.”
“But might be lying. Olivia, at least, would lie for Reggie.”
Tom nodded. “And that’s everyone.”
“Nellie was moving around the house during that time, making beds and tidying the rooms. I don’t suppose she saw anyone?”
