Murder At Rudhall Manor (13 page)

Lucy stood wringing her hands. Her hair was cascading down
her shoulders, part of her sleeve was ripped off and a button swung loose from
a single thread in her bodice.

"Was it one of the animals? It sounded like my pig, Mr
Bacon," Peter asked worriedly.

Lucy bit her lip. "I had to. He wouldn’t let go. He
wanted me to nibble him, and honestly he smelled so foul I couldn't bear it any
longer—"

"Good lord, she has killed my brother," Elizabeth
screeched staring at the ground behind Lucy.

Lord Adair went and nudged Ian with his boot.

Ian moaned.

 "He is alive, merely dazed," Lord Adair
observed. He bent down and further inspected the damage. He whistled in
appreciation. "Remarkable job with the rope. You have tied him up
well."

Lucy straightened up in pleasure.

"Where did you get the rope?" Elizabeth asked, her
nostrils flaring in disapproval.

"I carry one at all times," Lucy replied demurely.

"He has been stabbed with what looks like hair
pins," Lord Adair said. "Painful but not lethal. I doubt he will dare
to misbehave with a woman again."

 "He won’t," Lucy said with a glint in her
eye.

"He has a doorknob stuck between his—" Lord
Adair's lips pressed together.

"Yes, well, I know nothing about that," Lucy said
primly.

Aunt Sedley gave a ghostly chuckle.

"And a piece of chalk up his left nostril," Lord
Adair continued after an uncomfortable pause.

Lucy pretended not to hear him this time.

Aunt Sedley patted Lucy on the back for a job well done. The
transparent hand merely passed through her ribcage a few times, but Lucy
understood the intent and appreciated it for what it was.

Lord Adair untied Ian, removed the chalk and left the door
knob.

"Oh, I am going to bed." Elizabeth snapped.

Lord Adair flicked a glance at her without moving his head.

Elizabeth immediately smoothed her face and spoke in a
helpless, fluttery sort of voice, "I am tired, Lord Adair, and you must be
too. Don't worry about Ian. Peter can take care of him."

Peter yawned and pulled off one of his robes—he had been
wearing two for some odd reason—and lobbed it at Ian's drunken chest. Next, he
picked up a book and jammed it under Ian's head.

After that, everyone stared at Ian on the floor for a moment
and then with a satisfactory nod departed for bed.

"Miss Trotter," Lord Adair said, catching her on
the way to the servants' rooms.

She paused and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Leave the investigations to me."

She kicked a little ornate side table placed against the
wall.”I wonder why Lady Sedley keeps such an ugly piece of furniture."

"Do not," he said sternly, "try and distract
me with inanities."

"No, truly, why does she keep this. Look at it. I have
never seen a more hideous object in my life."

"Miss Trotter—"

"It is covered in pink leather—"

"It is brown, but—"

"No, look. The brown is the dirt accumulated over the
years. It is in fact pink. I spilt a bit of tea on it the other day and here
... you can see the flesh colour glowing through."

He shuddered and looked away. "It must have been
restored at a later stage. It is about a hundred years old—"

"Ugh! Why the devil does she keep such old
things?"

"It is an antique piece—"

"My dress is ten years old. Is it antique?"

"No. It is appalling though."

"Who determines what is an antique and what is
not?"

"Old objects have a story to tell or are nostalgic
pieces—"

"Who determines which story is important and which is
not? If my dress could speak, it would entertain you with plenty of
tales—"

"Miss Trotter."

"Yes?" she asked coyly.

"Behave."

She kicked the table.

"Stop it. I told you it is a hundred years old. It is
fragile. Besides, young ladies shouldn't go around kicking things. It is not
done."

"Not done? Now you sound like an antique piece."
She peeked at him from underneath her lashes and once again kicked the table.

His lips pursed in disapproval.

"I am sorry," she said, feeling guilty. "I am
not sure why I did that. It was almost as if an invisible imp grasped my foot
and threw it at the table."

"I see."

"You do?" she asked in wonder. "I don't see
how you could, though, because I said it and I myself don’t see what I said.
Then how could you see it? Let me explain more clearly—"

"Leave the investigations to me," he interrupted.

"You already said that," she told her feet.

"Look at me," he ordered.

She slowly lifted her chin, crossed her eyes and stuck her
tongue out.

"I am losing patience," he said softly, "and
that, my dear, is a rare thing."

The presence of Aunt Sedley's ghost normally sucked all the
warmth out of a room, but Lord Adair seemed to have the opposite effect.

She started feeling feverish, and his warning tone had
raised the temperature a few more degrees.

The hallway felt narrower, the ceiling lower and the air
around them seemed to tense like tightly pulled violin strings.

All thoughts of mischief fled from her mind.

"You are one of them," she said, jerking her head
towards the rooms above.

"Miss Trotter, I admit it was amusing watching you hop
around aimlessly—"

She stifled a yawn and let the words roll of her back. He
had a lovely deep dark voice. She could stand here and listen to him forever
swaying to and fro, to and fro, and sometimes fro and to ….

He lifted the candle closer to himself and the dim yellow
light was awfully flattering. His lips were moving and his hair shimmering. The
muscles in his neck were taught, and the woody scent of him engulfed her
senses.

Lord Adair continued to speak passionately. "You have
been hopping about disguised as foliage. You have been caught hiding under Lady
Sedley's bed, prowling around the manor at night, beaten up Mr Sedley and then
tied him up—"

Lucy tilted her head and frowned. He had a nose, two eyes
and lips, and yet somehow every one of those features was so delectable in Lord
Adair while ordinary in others.

"Stuck pins all over him, doing devil knows what with
the hens—"

Lucy sighed. It was a waste … He really should marry and
produce beautiful children. It was his duty to do so …

"So you will leave the investigations to me from now
on. The wager is off. You are digging yourself into a larger and larger hole. It
will become impossible for me t—"

Burnt Lamb chops was what an ordinary man was compared to
him. While Lord Adair was a feast of spun sugar, mashed turnip, almond pudding,
tender veal, vibrant olives, powdered rump with greens, fricassee of calf’s
feet, turkey in chestnut sauce …

"I hope you understand, Miss Trotter, how
dangerous—"

He was wearing a robe again. A long silk black robe which
rustled sensuously every time he moved his hands to make a point. It made him
appear more thrilling, exciting and magnificent …

A sudden thought struck Lucy. It snuck past her impassioned
exploration of Lord Adair's good looks and rang for attention like a discordant
bell.

Why, the discordant bell jingled, had Elizabeth been dressed
at this hour? Everyone else had arrived wearing robes.

"Are you listening to me, Miss Trotter? Miss
Trotter?" Lord Adair asked, shaking her arm.

Lucy blinked. "Yes, what you say is true." She
blurted out the first thing that came to her head.

"It is?"

"Yes," she nodded more confidently.

"What is true?"

"I shouldn’t have tied him up."

Lord Adair closed his eyes, and before Lucy could once again
get lost in admiring his eyelashes, he opened them again. "Go to bed, Miss
Trotter. We will have this conversation tomorrow."

Lucy curtsied and departed with a final lustful look at his
beautifully shaped nostrils.

"Doxie," Aunt Sedley observed bobbing after her.

"Foolish woman," Rose, the cook's aide, muttered.

Lucy ignored her.

"Maykes me mad as de' devils," Rose growled,
looking sideways at Lucy. "Murdherir, dief, no yentleman's otter."

Lucy slurped her tea loudly.

Rose attacked the dough with a rolling pin. "By Got,
'nother choo an I vill bite de nose."

Lucy understood the part about biting of the nose clearly
enough to hurriedly leave the warm kitchen.

Her heart felt like it had abandoned its snug home in the
ribcage and crawled its way down to her toes. In other words, she was gloomy
and in no mood to match wits with Lady Sedley who would have by now discovered
Ian asleep on the library floor complete with battle wounds.

Wrapping two shawls around her desperately unhappy shoulders
and covering the plump bun drooping at the nape of her neck with a brown
woollen scarf, she escaped outside and headed towards her favourite bench.

It had snowed again last night, but she failed to appreciate
the white landscape glittering like an enchanted realm in the sunlight.

Her cheeks hurt from the cold, her eyes and nose were
watering, and her heart was trying to wriggle out of her toe nails.

And her heart did shoot out of her big left toe when she
spotted Spooner blocking her path.

The Egyptian crane seemed to be struggling with an old
scarlet sweater tied around her neck. The long-legged bird, weighing a little
over ten pounds and sporting an impressive wingspan, paused in the act of
pecking at the offending garment as Lucy's foot crunched on a fresh pile of
snow.

The muscles in Spooner's lengthy neck moved and the bird
tilted its head to shoot a cold look at Lucy from the corner of her eyes.

Lucy warily eyed the bird back.

For the next few minutes, the bird and Lucy stared at one
another. The wind urgently rustled leaves, the sun shone worriedly and snow
melted under a human and bird's feet

Lucy's lashes started quivering, but before she could blink,
Spooner broke eye contact and spread her clipped wings, thrust her chest out
and took a step forward.

Lucy's heart reeled back through her toe nail, raced up her
leg and once again found its home in the rib cage where it started hammering
with all its might.

Spooner flapped her wings and let out a loud trumpeting
sound making Lucy leap a foot into the air, spin around and run like the devil
was snapping at her heels.

"Miss Trotter," Lord Adair called out.

"Bloody blooming bird," Lucy yelled back.

"Did you just call me a blooming bird?" Lord Adair
asked taken aback.

Lucy had no breath left to explain. She was too busy trying
to escape the Egyptian crane.

"Miss Trotter, stop right this minute," Lord Adair
ordered ambling up to her.

"Behind you," Lucy gasped.

A few seconds of brief silence ensued after which Lord Adair
started running faster than Lucy and soon overtook her.

Lucy jealously watched his long legs cover ground.

"Bloody blooming bird is right," he growled as he
gestured for her to follow him.

Lucy followed for she had no other plan than to aimlessly
keep running until either the bird or she gave up.

Lord Adair abandoned the main path and instead leaped over a
leafless bush and charged towards a clump of trees.

Lucy wondered if he was taking them towards the stables by
cutting across the garden.

He veered left, ducked under a low branch and with an
impatient glance back at her sprinted onwards.

She frowned, her boots sinking into the wet mud and snow.
The stables were on the right. Where was Lord Adair heading?

The sound of flapping wings silenced all thoughts and she
accelerated, her eyes glued to Lord Adair's blue woollen coat warming his
admirable back.

Up ahead another group of tall, leafy trees were packed
together. He led her through the clustered barks, and she was amazed to find a
large building hidden behind the trees.

She had a brief sense of a square structure covered in ivy
before she dashed inside and Lord Adair slammed the door closed behind them.

They both sagged against the door in relief. They were safe
from Spooner for the moment.

When Lucy finally caught her breath, she looked around in
bafflement. She had been living at Rudhall for over three months and never
known this place existed. How had Lord Adair discovered it?

The heavy draping of ivy on the exterior and the trees
guarding the place in the front blocked out most of the sunlight. It looked
like an abandoned orangery or a hothouse.

Wood replaced parts that should have been covered with
glass, and bars of light streamed in between the slats to illuminate broken
pots, strange plants and beautifully carved pillars.

Her foot touched something on the ground, and she almost
screamed at the frozen face staring up at her. It was a statue of a man with a
bewitching face and damaged hands.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she noticed an odd
golden glow coming from the middle of the orangery.

Lord Adair, too, seemed to have noticed it for he put a
finger to his lips and quietly led her towards the light.

They crept closer and found two empty iron chairs placed
around a dark ornate table.

But it was the lit lamp and the glowing cigar lying
abandoned on an ashtray, its smoke still curling out and disappearing into the
damp air, that made Lucy stifle a gasp.

Lord Adair took one look at the burning cigar and pulled her
behind an upright statue of Dionysus.

She nodded in understanding before he could gesture her to
stay quiet. Someone was using this place as a hideout or a secret meeting
place, and that someone could be still around.

He gave her a pleased smile before turning his attention
back to the table.

Lord Adair's quick thinking worked in their favour. Whoever
had been smoking that cigar returned the moment Lucy had ducked her head out of
sight.

"Digby," a familiar husky voice called out.

"Don't call me that," the valet snapped.

"Well, then, Richard, you should have chosen a better
name," Elizabeth replied equally irritably.

Lucy's eyebrow shot up in shock. What the devil? The valet
was meant to be having an affair with Lady Sedley. Everyone knew that, so what
was he doing here with Elizabeth?

"I am worried," the valet was saying. He curled
his fingers around the back of the chair and continued, "I only stole the
jewels. I never dreamt the old man would be offed the next day. We have to get
rid of the jewels, Lizzy, or Adair is going to think I did it."

Elizabeth lit a cigarette and took a long thoughtful pull.
She handed it to the valet and spoke with smoke escaping her nostrils. "It
took us six whole months of planning the theft. No one would have missed the
jewels." She turned away from the valet and asked in a different tone,
"You did not kill him? He may have guessed your intentions and … Oh, don't
be angry, my dearest pineapple. I am merely speculating, and even if you had
done it, I would stand by you. I held no love for my father, you know that. He
had been cruel to all of us and—"

"I did not kill him," the valet growled in
frustration. "It was simple enough to pull the chain out on the pretext of
helping him change his shirt before bedtime. He was too foxed to notice the
chain was missing, and early next morning I snuck back into the room and
replaced it."

She twirled the cigarette between her gloved fingers.
"You gave me the jewels that afternoon. Father was alive then."

He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes blazing, "Exactly.
Why would I need to go back and murder him after I had been successful?"

"You will not be suspected," Elizabeth soothed
him. "You couldn't be."

The valet glanced away.

She continued with a touch of bitterness. "You have Mother
wrapped around your little finger. She wouldn’t let anything happen to
you."

"Lizzy, I admit she has tried to seduce me, but I swear
I have remained faithful to you. I love you and only you, light of my love, the
other half of my soul, well-bred mother of my future children—"

"I know, noggin dear. I believe you. I just wish this
scheme of yours had worked. We would have been married by now."

"We can still marry. Run away with me right this
moment, Lizzy. No more of this game. We have the finances now. We can go to
Scotland. I have a man willing to buy the jewels staying in the village. We can
sell it to him and buy a house, some sheep—"

"We can't," Elizabeth whispered unhappily.

"Why the devil not? Your father's funeral is over,
nothing is stopping you now."

"We cannot because we have no money, Richard. How will
we live?"

"The jewels are worth a lot more than you think—"

"The jewels are stolen," Elizabeth said shortly.

The valet's mouth dropped open. He said slowly, "Are
you feeling all right? I know the jewels are stolen. We stole them."

"No, I mean you stole them and gave them to me. I kept
them in a secret drawer in my desk and now they are gone."

"Are you saying that I spent six months pretending to
be a darned valet, plotted to steal the jewels, stole them, thereafter worried
about being found out and suffered nightmares … Now those very jewels have been
stolen again."

"Yes, yes and yes," she said, her shoulders
sagging in defeat. "Someone stole them from me."

"It has to be that bloody rotten governess," he
burst out.

"Perhaps," Elizabeth bit her lip.

"Perhaps? Is that all you can say? You were responsible
for hiding the jewels, and after all I went through, you should have thought of
a safer place to keep them, you fool! I don't care how you do it, Miss
Elizabeth Sedley, but I want you to get the jewels back or I am going to tell
your family your entire plan. I will admit it all to Adair. How I am an
impoverished earl here by your request, your entire plot to hoodwink your own
family … and I am not going to marry you either. You will have nowhere to go,
no family, no husband—"

"Are the jewels worth more to you than I am?"

"I have seen you making eyes at Adair, trying to trap
him into marriage. If he shows you so much as a hint of interest, you will forget
all about me."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Find the jewels," he said in a dark, dangerous
voice.

Elizabeth watched him forcefully stub the cigarette out and
leave. Her face was pale and her eyes wide and hurt.

Lucy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl.