An Aria Writ In Blood (The Underwood Mysteries Book 4) (22 page)

He found him with relative ease and wasted no time in courtesy as he asked in a low voice, “Do you know where I might find Giovanni?”

Toby had the grace to look shame-faced as he replied, “I’m afraid I do, Mr. Underwood.  He left the house late last night, bound for Portsmouth.  From there he will take a boat across the channel.”

Underwood was white as parchment as he looked at his manservant, “Please tell me that Lady Luisa is not with him.”

“She is not.  She was too ill to leave her bed.  When Giovanni realized she was truly unwell, he decided not to tell her that he was to make his escape.  He has gone without her, though doubtless he will send for her when he reaches Italy.”

                With a shake of head, Underwood made his disbelief obvious to Toby, “You aided his escape – knowing what you knew, you still aided his escape?”

“I had to – you could not possibly understand, unless you had lived the lives both myself and Giovanni endured, you could not begin to comprehend the connection between us…”

“Try to explain to me,” said Underwood grimly, “And make it very, very convincing – preferably before Grantley arrives to arrest you!”

*

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

(“Oleo Tranquillior” – Smoother than oil – a phrase from the Psalms; “His mouth was as smooth as butter, but his heart was war; his words were smoother than oil, yet they were drawn swords”)

Grantley arrived to find a congregation awaiting him.  Underwood, Gil, Toby, Cara, Luisa and Verity were sat, surprisingly quiet, in the dull, almost twilight aura of the breakfast room.  Because this room was at the back of the house it was used only in the mornings when sunlight flooded it with charm and warmth.  In the mid-afternoon it seemed to shrink a little, and darken prematurely.  One glance around at the faces of the occupants told him that it was not merely a lack of daylight that was burdening the atmosphere with a feeling of foreboding.

“Something has happened?” he asked at once, addressing himself mainly to Underwood, but encompassing all the others in his questioning.

Underwood said nothing but handed him William Lovell’s note.  He read it, his expression growing increasingly grim.  When he had scanned it twice, to be fully sure that he had not misinterpreted the message contained within, then lifted his head and looked directly at Lady Luisa, “Where is Giovanni, my Lady?”

“Halfway across the channel by now, I imagine,” she said coolly, meeting his eyes with a hint of defiance in her own.

She rather enjoyed the reaction this prompted.  His mouth dropped open in an almost comic gape, “Dear God!  You have let him escape?”

“I encouraged him to go,” she admitted, but with none of the shame which ought to have accompanied the statement, “Why should I leave him to the mercy of
your
justice?  In our country, he would have been applauded for trying to protect me.”

“From your husband, mayhap he would have been applauded here too.  But to attack a defenceless boy.  Trentham may have been tedious in his pursuit of you, he was most certainly intensely annoying – but he did not deserve to die for it.”

“He insulted me – most gravely.  In Italy he would have expected nothing less than death for his foul mouth and fouler mind!”

                Grantley was white and his jaw tightened as he bit back the rash words which sprang to his lips.  It was evident to all that he was engaging in an inner struggle to master himself.  Several tense seconds passed before he was able to murmur, “I might remind you, madam, we are not in Italy now!”

“That is painfully obvious!”

“May I ask why you chose to remain if England is so abhorrent to you?”

This was obviously not a question she had been expecting, and he had the satisfaction of seeing her bereft of words.  When she did reply, it was a weak excuse which fooled no one, “I was too ill to travel.”

“Then you have effected a remarkable recovery.”  The terse comment was the last thing he said to her that day, but both his eyes and hers continually met across the room, though they tried to studiously ignore each other.

Underwood felt the time had arrived to admit to the Constable that Giovanni had not accomplished his escape without help.  With an apologetic glance towards Toby, he intercepted, “My dear Grantley.  I fear there is more.  Toby is now in possession of the full story and would like to explain to you.  Won’t you take a seat and accept the hospitality of the house?  Would you care for tea – or perhaps something a little stronger?”

“I’ll decide on that when I have heard Toby’s tale,” Grantley said quietly, but with an edge of fury in his tone which told Underwood how difficult he was finding the task of holding his temper in check.

Toby needed no further encouragement, “I’m sorry, Mr. Grantley, sir, that I did not tell you all this sooner.  I must say that I never condoned Giovanni’s actions, even from the very first, though I could appreciate the bitterness in his heart and soul which led him to kill Lord Peter!  Not only had the man struck his beloved daughter, knocking her unconscious, but he had also offered the gravest insults to both him and his child.  Lord Peter had been finding his jealousy increasingly difficult to control.  He was married to a lovely woman – one who was years younger than himself, but also a woman who had led a colourful past life.  Other men, even his friends, who would not have dreamt of speaking disrespectfully to a lady of their own class, thought nothing of flirting outrageously with a former actress.  Peter found himself having to cut his connections with all his previous cronies and even his relations.  Trentham was far from being the only philanderer Peter was forced to fend off.  It was the boy’s youth and close connection which made his attentions to Lady Luisa all the more infuriating.  Things would probably have settled when the couple returned to their villa in Rome, but for Lady Luisa’s sudden announcement that she was to have a child.  From the onset it meant that she could not travel, so Peter was trapped in an impossible and unpleasant situation with his nephew – but far worse, in his eyes, it meant that she might be carrying a child who would develop the same disfigurement which afflicted Luisa’s father.  Peter could not bear the thought that he might father a child who was less than perfect.”

Luisa made a small sound in her throat as she tried to choke back the emotions which threatened to overwhelm her, but Toby refused to allow himself to be swayed from his purpose.  It was left to Verity to take her friend’s hand in a comforting grip.

“On the night of the murder,” continued Toby, “Luisa and Peter had gone to their room, but not, alas, to sleep.  Peter paced the room, going over and over every possible solution to their dilemma – a dilemma which Luisa insisted did not exist.  She was deliriously happy to be having a child – and, adoring her father as she did, saw nothing at all horrifying in the prospect of dwarfism.  It would be her child and she would love it, whatever God saw fit to inflict upon it.  What she did find horrifying was the suggestion Peter made that he might be able to find a doctor who would be willing to deprive her of her baby.  When she protested wildly at this, Peter began to deny that the child was his.  He simply could not bear the idea of this threatened disability in his child and he refused to countenance it.  Giovanni had been in the dressing room, listening to every word of this discourse, and when Luisa began to grow distressed he could stand it no longer.  He came into the bedroom and told Lord Peter, in no uncertain terms, that he had better moderate his language and his opinions.  Peter laughed at his swaggering, well aware that he, at six feet, was more than a match for the little Italian.  To prove his power, he struck out at Luisa, who was kneeling on the bed, begging with him to accept her and her baby.  She flew backwards and cracked her head on the table beside the bed.  Giovanni rushed to her, but quickly realized she was merely dazed and not really hurt.  Then he advanced on his master.  Peter was entirely unconcerned, feeling his position was unassailable – after all, what could the man do to him?  The only damage he could have inflicted would have been if he had possessed a gun – which Peter knew he did not.  Then he made his greatest – and fatal – error!  He turned his back on Giovanni and directed his gaze back to the bed, where his insensible wife lay, entirely at his mercy.  Giovanni swears that he saw an expression on Peter’s face which convinced him that the man, drunk with power and lust, intended to force himself upon his wife.  If Luisa was to be believed, it would not have been the first time…”

Grantley found his eyes drawn towards Luisa, but for the first time her own gaze was downcast.  Her face was pale except for two spots of bright colour on her cheeks and he wanted to run across the room and grasp her by the shoulders, shaking the truth out of her.  His hands balled themselves into fists and he dragged his concentration back to Toby.

“Giovanni had spent most of his life in the less than salubrious company that most of us imagine is the norm in travelling circuses and freak shows.  He was a man who knew how to protect himself – and he had been an acrobat for most of his career.  He unsheathed the dagger he always carried hidden in his boot, gripped it between his teeth, and with a mighty effort, he ran at Lord Peter and launched himself into the air.  His own fury helped him achieve the leap which might otherwise have been out of the question.  Almost before he knew what he was about, he was on Peter’s back, clamping himself into position by the strength of his thighs.  Grabbing the man by the hair, he yanked his head backwards and drew the knife across his throat.  As the blood spurted forwards and he felt Peter buckle beneath him, he threw himself sideways and by some miracle found himself firmly on his feet as Peter sank slowly to the floor, a look of astonishment on his face.”

Toby paused, but his audience were held spellbound by his narrative, so with a deep breath he continued, “As soon as the deed was done, Giovanni realized the gravity of the situation.  He had killed Peter in a red mist of fury, and in defence of his daughter and himself, but who would believe that?  A foreigner, a servant and the killer of a member of the aristocracy!  He had to act quickly.  His first reaction was to simply run, but he could not leave Luisa.  Had he been alone, he would simply have gone back to Italy without a backward glance, but he could not leave his precious child to face the trouble alone.  He knew she could not be accused of committing the murder, for she was still unconscious and covered in gore, but he also knew she would have been devastated to see him hanged for the murder.  A swift glance about the room showed him the chair and the chest.  He needed time to formulate his plans, so he secured the dressing room with the chair, knowing that he could replace it from the outside, in the manner previously described by Mr. Underwood, then he turned the key in the lock of the main door and hid himself in the chest.  Presently he heard the stirring of the rest of the household, then the arrival outside the door of the Earl and Underwood…”

“Just one moment, Toby.  When did Luisa scream?  It was her scream that roused us.  Did she regain consciousness and scream after the murder, or before, when Peter struck her?”

“Giovanni swears she did not scream at all.  He thought you had all been wakened by the sound of Peter’s body slumping to the floor.”

Underwood and Verity exchanged a puzzled glance, “But we heard a scream, Toby,” said Verity, “That was what wakened us.”

Underwood turned his attention to Luisa, “Did you scream, my dear?” he asked softly.

“If you say I did, I suppose I must have, but I do not remember.  I don’t remember anything at all – I don’t want to remember!”

Grantley interrupted testily, “What the devil does it matter?  Someone screamed.  It was probably the Banshee.  Isn’t this family supposed to have a tradition of the Banshee wailing when one of their number dies?”

Underwood laughed.  He had no time for such superstitious nonsense, but Verity visibly paled and her eyes grew wide, “Oh, dear God!” she whispered, “Never tell me I heard something supernatural?”

                Cara, looking pale, but composed, said quietly, “There is such a tradition, but I’ve never heard it said that it has happened within the memory of anyone in the family.  It’s the sort of thing that is often said about old families.”

“There you have it, my dear Verity,” said Underwood, astounded that his sensible wife should be so swayed by horror tales, “You have heard from the lips of a Lovell.  The solution is simple, of course Luisa screamed.  She was still half-unconscious and saw the blood, but remembers nothing because she immediately passed out again, and Giovanni was so engrossed in planning his salvation, he either forgot, or never heard, her cry out.  Pray do not begin to credit stories of ghouls and goblins.”

No one cared to argue with him, but the truth of the origin of the unearthly shriek was never fully explained to Verity’s satisfaction.

“Please continue, Toby,” said Grantley, successfully putting an end to any further speculation.

“Giovanni was in a difficult position.  He could not risk leaving the room by the dressing room door in case he met someone.  The sounds outside the main door told him that the family and guests were awake.  He could not leave by the window as there was nothing for him to hold onto to aid his descent.  The only thing left to do was to hide himself in the chest.  He surmised that no one would think of searching it because to all intents and purposes it was far too small to hide an assassin.  However, his circus training had taught him how to cram himself into extremely small spaces – that being the basis for many magic illusions.”

“He was right – of course we all assumed the killer would immediately leave the scene of his crime and not stay in the room, risking discovery.  I’m ashamed of myself.  After all these years, I should have learned that nothing is ever what it seems, and no one ever behaves the way they ought,”  intercepted Underwood, with justifiable irritation.

Toby went on, “As soon as Luisa had been taken away and the room was empty again, Giovanni emerged from his hiding place and left the room, re-securing it in just the way Underwood deduced, using a long length of cravat as his rope.  He found he was surprisingly lacking in bloodstains, and had only to wash his hands before going in search of Lady Luisa, pretending to have just been roused from deep sleep.”

“Very cleverly done,” said Underwood, “If only he had thought to provide Lord Peter with the means to have slit his own throat, he would have escaped without fear of retribution.  Had he taken one moment to return from the dressing room with Peter’s razor and smeared it with blood, we would never have suspected murder at all – for that was the only thing which gave him away.  The locked door and the blood soaked gown that Luisa wore would have pointed inevitably to suicide.”