The Bloodied Cravat (16 page)

“He’s right,” the Squire pronounced. “We searched carefully, out in the hot sun this afternoon. It was while you were over at Lord Kendrick’s estate, Mr. Brummell.”

Mr. Lavender’s gaze swung to me. “At the murder victim’s house?”

“Er, yes, the man could not be laid out in the same clothing in which he was murdered. His cravat was soaked with blood,” I said in my best foolish dandy voice.

Mr. Lavender nodded, his light-green eyes mocking. “Bloodied cravats not being the fashion.”

“Right. No more than bushy side whiskers and large mustaches.”

The Bow Street man stroked the enormous growth of hair above his upper lip. “So you went to Lord Kendrick’s house to get him fresh clothes, did you, laddie?”

“With the permission and gratitude of his valet, a man who had known the marquess from the time he was a boy.”

“Name?” Mr. Lavender asked, pencil poised above the notebook.

“Thompson,” Freddie said. “He and some of my servants took the body back to Lord Kendrick’s estate just before you arrived. As Mr. Brummell said, Thompson wished his master to be cleaned and dressed in his Court clothes.”

“There was no need to keep him drenched in all his blood,” Squire Oxberry explained.

Freddie reached for her wine glass with trembling fingers.

“Squire, what about you? Do you have any opinion as to who killed the marquess?” Mr. Lavender asked.

The Squire scratched his head. “Opinion? I can’t say I do. Though there have been stories aplenty about Lord Kendrick’s family swirling about for some time.”

“I do not think we need to repeat old gossip,” Freddie said firmly.

“With all possible respect, your Royal Highness,” Mr. Lavender said, “we need to start somewhere.”

Freddie gave a little shake of her head, but the Squire plowed on. “Lord Kendrick’s cousin, Lady Ariana, has bats in her attics, don’t you know,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. “Her father was uncommon cruel to her while he was alive. She came to live with the old marquess several years back. Walks around in a fairy world, if you ask me.”

“Did she have reason to want her cousin dead?”

I held my tongue silent. I was not ready to divulge Lady Ariana’s stealing nor Lord Kendrick’s threat to have her confined to a lunatic asylum.

The Squire’s old face twisted. “Not that I am aware, but you never know what a dotty person will take into their head.”

Mr. Lavender’s pencil flew across the pages of his notebook. “Where is she now?”

Freddie answered. “Out of sympathy, Lady Crecy took her to London to stay in their house. Lady Ariana was surprisingly unruffled about the news of her cousin’s death. Lady Crecy and I agreed the girl must have been in shock.”

“Why did she not go to the Cranworths?” I asked Freddie. “I thought Lady Ariana and Cecily Cranworth were friends.”

“Roger Cranworth decided suddenly that he wanted to go to London too,” Freddie replied. “I did not think he had the means to support Lady Ariana as well as himself and his sister, Cecily, in Town.”

“He did take Cecily with him, though,” Doctor Wendell said gloomily.

“Who will benefit financially from Lord Kendrick’s murder? His cousin?” Mr. Lavender asked. “And who is marquess now?”

“It would depend upon how the letters patent were written,” Freddie said. “Though unusual, it would not be impossible for the title to pass through to Lady Ariana’s son, should she have one. In the meantime, a trustee would be appointed and she could have an allowance and the house. Though that may not be the way of it at all. I have no idea.”

I had not even considered that motivation for Lady Ariana to do away with her cousin. Was she even capable of thinking that far ahead? I could sooner imagine her killing him more out of a desire to be kept from that lunatic asylum.

Mr. Lavender made notes. “Anyone else? Someone who quarrelled with the marquess?” he asked the room in general.

Tallarico looked at Freddie. What had she told him? How much did he know? Surely she would not have confided in him regarding the letter.

Doctor Wendell shifted in his chair. Other than Freddie and me, the marquess had quarrelled with both the Cranworths. I knew the doctor was worried about my saying something about Cecily Cranworth’s passionate statement that she would rather see the marquess dead than to marry him. Again, I refrained from telling Mr. Lavender anything. I had no clear plan at this point. Better to say nothing than steer the investigator in a direction which might ultimately lead to me or Freddie. At least until I found the missing letter, I would have to keep Mr. Lavender in the dark as much as I could.

Unfortunately the Squire had no reason not to speak. “I think Roger Cranworth was angry with Lord Kendrick.”

“They were friends,” Doctor Wendell said hotly.

“Now, Doctor, I know about you and Cecily Cranworth. She told me herself she’d never marry me. I’ve got eyes in my head and could see she had formed a
tendre
for you.”

The doctor’s face went red.

“What does that have to do with Lord Kendrick?” Mr. Lavender asked impatiently.

The Squire enlightened him. “Roger Cranworth took it into his head that Lord Kendrick would marry his sister. He was furious when it looked like the marquess would not comply with this plan. I had offered for the girl, but Roger Cranworth wanted Lord Kendrick to wed his sister. She, er, had other ideas,” he ended, glancing significantly at Doctor Wendell.

Mr. Lavender made notes.

At that moment, Freddie rose, causing the rest of the company to follow suit. “This is ridiculous! Neither Lady Ariana nor Cecily nor Roger Cranworth would be capable of murder,” she cried fervently.

“Then who would, your Royal Highness?” Mr. Lavender asked reasonably. “No stranger would have had access to the hair ornament left here in your drawing room. You must face facts. The killer has to be someone who was here at Oatlands.”

Freddie’s voice shook. “This is all exceedingly upsetting. I cannot bear much more—”

I was at her side, muscling my way between her and Tallarico. “I think you have learned all we know of the situation, Mr. Lavender. Let the Royal Duchess have some peace.”

The Bow Street man pressed on. “To speak bluntly, I’d like to know more about the nature of your distress, your Royal Highness.”

“She has had a violent murder occur on her property, cannot you understand that?” I said in an angry voice.

“Yes, I can, laddie. ‘Tis only that when I first arrived in this room, the Royal Duchess said that she’d been distressed for the past
two
days. The murder happened today. What were your troubles yesterday, your Royal Highness? Did they involve the marquess? Do you have any suspicions as to who might have murdered him?”

Freddie looked at me.

Then she swooned into my arms.

Ulga tried to take Freddie’s limp body from me. Tallarico let forth a burst of Italian protests, but I ignored them both. I carried the Royal Duchess upstairs to her bedchamber, Ulga following in our wake until we were at the door. The maid swung open the portal, then lit candles at the bedside and burned feathers to wave under her mistress’s nose.

Hero and Georgicus looked up at our entrance from their place at the foot of Freddie’s bed. I recognized two other dogs, Legacy and Minney, slumbering by the empty fireplace with three of their puppies.

I laid the Royal Duchess tenderly upon her bed. The skirts of her aquamarine gown with its small train spread across the coverlet. As I let her head fall gently on her pillow, every protective instinct in me cried out with the desire to remove all the unhappiness from her life. I could start by discovering the whereabouts of that blasted letter and the identity of Lord Kendrick’s murderer.

 If only I could do these things, I told myself, then Freddie and I could close the distance that had sprung up between us. We could return to the way things had been the evening of her birthday.

Even as the thought formed in my mind, a doubt crept in behind it.

“Excuse me, please,” Ulga said. She carried the smoldering feathers held over a porcelain dish.

The dogs sat up, sniffing the air with interest. Hero moved to nudge Freddie’s hand with his wet black nose, then licked it hopefully. He cocked his head at his mistress, who did not respond. Georgicus adjusted his position so that he laid against Freddie’s limbs.

I took a step back while the maid administered to Freddie. On a table stood a decanter of sherry. I poured a small amount into a crystal glass.

“Ulga,” Freddie murmured a moment later.

“Do not try to get up, your Royal Highness,” Ulga advised. She put the dish with the feathers aside. “You fainted and are safe in your bedchamber now.”

“Oh, dear. I cannot remember ever fainting before today. Now I have done it twice. What will people think?” Freddie said, her hand automatically going to stroke Hero. Her touch triggered a direct response via the enthusiastic wagging of his plumy tail.

“That you were overcome from the events of the day,” I answered quietly. Ulga’s lips folded at my intrusion.

Freddie gave a start, her hand dropping from the dog, then she looked at me. Her expression was guarded. “George, did you carry me upstairs? I must rise.”

“Yes, I did carry you. Stay where you are comfortable, and do not concern yourself with the proprieties. I shall remain but a few minutes. Here, drink a bit of this sherry.”

Ulga moved to place another pillow behind her mistress’s head. As Freddie lifted herself to a sitting position, the dogs slid closer. Freddie accepted the glass from my hand, her fingers like ice.

Watching her take a sip, I said, “I wish you would leave the matter of the marquess’s demise and the letter to me.” I held up a hand against any protests. “Now I know you have hired Mr. Lavender to uncover the killer, and while I cannot think it wise, I accept it. We shall all have to go back to London, even Mr. Lavender. That is where everyone who attended the house party will be, with the exceptions of Doctor Wendell and Squire Oxberry. Old Dawe will be here to forward any correspondence to you in Town. With him doing so, and the two of us in London, we will be aware if anyone attempts to continue Lord Kendrick’s blackmail scheme.”

Freddie shuddered. “I know I said I would come to Town after the house party, but you cannot expect me to keep that promise after what has happened.”

Ulga nodded her agreement, then subsided into a chair under my hostile gaze.

“Freddie, you must listen to me. As unpleasant as it is, word of Lord Kendrick’s murder at Oatlands is probably all around London already. You must appear in Town, above suspicion, above reproach, with your usual air of dignity.”

She looked away and began to pet Hero again. “I do not want to go to London. I want to stay here with my dogs. They love me. I can trust them.”

Only with the greatest of self-control did I refrain from comment on yours truly’s feelings and trustworthiness.

A moment passed, then she said, “Very well, I shall remove to St. James’s Palace on Monday. I need the next two days to organise the household. I should also pay my final respects to Lord Kendrick. It would look odd in the neighbourhood if I did not.”

“I agree,” I said.

“George,” she said, turning her gaze to me. “I think it best if you leave Oatlands since almost everyone else has.”

What of Victor Tallarico? I wanted to shout. Are you going to tell him to leave as well? “I shall return to the drawing room and inform everyone you are recovered and resting. You will find me gone in the morning.”

“You may call on me at the Palace to apprise me of your efforts to obtain the letter.”

I made her a bow.

Ulga stood waiting with the door open. Happy to see me go, no doubt. I paused next to her and spoke in a low voice, “Take care of her.”

Ulga’s shoulders went back. “I alvays do.”

Not like you, was the silent message I read in the maid’s eyes.

I walked down the corridor, hearing the door close behind me.

Downstairs, Mr. Lavender, Victor Tallarico, and Doctor Wendell sat in the drawing room.

I told them of Freddie’s condition, adding that she would arrive in London on Monday.

Mr. Lavender said, “That’s good news.” He pulled a small ivory box from one of his pockets, darting a look at me. I knew the box contained toothpicks. I also knew it had a tiny round turquoise stone in the centre of the lid. How did I know this? Because I personally had gifted the Scotsman with it after he once saved my life.

He popped a toothpick in his mouth and was about to put away the box when he examined it more closely. I knew what was coming next and tried not to cringe. Sure enough, Mr. Lavender spat on the top of the box, then rubbed it on his sleeve to clean it before putting it away. I shuddered.

He spoke around the toothpick. “Squire Oxberry has gone to bed. He is cooperating with me regarding the investigation and will let me know of any developments here in the countryside. I needn’t stay overnight.”

“You are going to set out for Town at this late hour?” Victor Tallarico asked. “What about the highwayman who has been plaguing the area?”

“Highwayman?” Mr. Lavender sat forward in his chair.

I waved a careless hand, wishing I could choke the Italian. But wait, Tallarico’s mention of the highwayman surely meant Freddie had not confided in him about the letter. If she had, he never would have broached the subject.

I answered the Bow Street man’s question. “A mere country nuisance. He will not bother a man dressed as you are, riding on horseback. Er, I assume you came on horseback.”

Mr. Lavender’s bushy eyebrows came together. “I did. I’ll go now, but when I get back to Town, I’ll want to speak with you again, Mr. Brummell.”

“I hold myself flattered,” I replied, giving him my most elegant bow.

He scowled. “I’ll want to talk to
everyone
involved in this again, and will be asking the Royal Duchess for a list of all in attendance at the house party. Not until Monday, though,” he said, jamming a hat shaped like a coal-scuttle on his head. “Tomorrow I’ll find out where the people mentioned here tonight are residing in London. Sunday is the Sabbath. We honour the Sabbath in the Lavender household.”