High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (16 page)

"So what
did
you see?" Felicity demanded with barely controlled impatience.

"I've just remembered something." Meredith sank onto the edge of her narrow bed. "When I talked to Deirdre yesterday I noticed she wore a butterfly brooch."

"Oh, she's always wearing that thing," Felicity muttered. "I'd wager a month's salary that disgusting Silkwood gave it to her. I don't think . . ." Her voice trailed off, while she exchanged a significant look with Meredith.

"Deirdre," Meredith said softly.

Felicity shook her head. "I might have said she'd do just about anything to keep Kathleen from talking to her parents, but murder? That seems a little excessive, don't you think? I can't say I'm fond of the girl, but she doesn't strike me as a cold-blooded killer."

Essie whimpered, earning another scathing scowl from Felicity.

"Anyone is capable of murder, given a strong enough motive." Meredith pushed herself up from the bed and walked to the door. "Even one of us."

Felicity smiled, while Essie burst into hot denials.

"Oh, no, no, no! Not me! I couldn't. I simply couldn't kill anyone!"

"Yes," Meredith said firmly. "You could. When cornered,
we women are capable of anything. Our instinct for survival is every bit as strong as any man's." With that, she opened the door.

Essie rushed out, obviously upset. Felicity followed more slowly, turning to Meredith as she closed the door.

"I take it you'll talk to Deirdre again?"

"Most certainly." Meredith met her gaze. "I'll relate every word to you, I promise."

"Very well." Felicity glanced down the corridor, but Essie had already disappeared. "I don't know what we should do about Essie. I fear she doesn't have the stomach for this kind of activity."

"You may be right." Meredith started down the corridor. "But she would be devastated if we didn't include her. You know how sensitive she is about being left out of things."

"She is terribly insecure." Felicity's long stride took her past Meredith, and she paused in order to allow her friend to catch up. "She must not have had a satisfying childhood." She glanced at Meredith out of the corner of her eye. "Does she ever talk about it? Her home life before Bellehaven, I mean. She appears to come from a very good family. I have to wonder how she came to be teaching in a finishing school, instead of attending one."

Meredith hesitated. It was not her place to tell Felicity Essie's story. On the other hand, if it would help Felicity understand the young woman and arouse her sympathy, she might not be so belittling toward her.

In the end, propriety won, and she kept silent on the subject. If Essie wanted Felicity to know her background, then it was up to Essie to enlighten her. Until then, Meredith assured herself, she would keep the young lady's secret.

Parting company with Felicity, she headed for the
library—the most likely place to find the students if they had chosen not to go into the village.

Crossing the entrance hall, she was just in time to see Tom disappearing out the door. She hurried after him, certain he must have been looking for her.

He was halfway down the steps when she stepped outside and called out his name. He paused, taking his time to turn around and face her.

"I was going to come back later, m'm."

"That's all right, Tom." She started toward him. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Yes, m'm. Davie's back. Seems a little better. In his spirits, I mean. Doesn't say much about what's bothering his stomach."

"Oh, good. I am glad."

"He's digging the flower bed for you, m'm. Just like you asked." He turned and pointed to the center of the woods. "In that little clearing in the woods. Thought you'd like it there. Nice and private, it is."

Touched by his thoughtfulness, she smiled at him. "Thank you, Tom. That would be perfect. Please let me know when it's finished. Oh, and could you fetch some annuals for the students? Marigolds would be nice. Five dozen should be plenty. I know it's late in the season, but you should get them for a good price now, shouldn't you?"

Tom nodded and touched the brim of his panama. "Don't you worry, m'm. I'll see to it."

She watched him hobble down the stairs, pleased that the plan was coming together. It was ironic, she thought, as she retraced her steps, that Sylvia, a near stranger, should be responsible for the idea. Then again, Sylvia was now a part of Bellehaven, a member of the family, so to speak. Felicity would just have to get used to that.

Much to her delight, she saw Deirdre the minute she entered the quiet library. The girl sat in a corner, her nose buried in a book. She looked up as Meredith approached, her eyes wary and her expression hard as stone.

"I'd like you to come with me to my office," Meredith said softly, so the other girls lounging around the room couldn't hear.

A flash of defiance crossed Deirdre's face. Then she shrugged, laid down her book, and followed Meredith in silence all the way to the office.

Once inside the darkly paneled room, Meredith closed the door and indicated a chair with a wave of her hand.

Deirdre slumped down on it and stretched her feet out in front of her.

"That is no way for a lady to sit," Meredith said sharply. "Straighten your back, cross your ankles, and tuck them under your knees, the way you've been taught."

Deirdre's scowl darkened as she obeyed the command.

"That's better." Meredith edged behind her desk and sat down. "Now, I have something to ask you and I must warn you to be perfectly honest with me. I shan't be able to help you unless you tell me everything, and mark my words, the constable will not be nearly as understanding as I will be."

Deirdre's defiance vanished in a look of stark terror. "The constable? What does he have to do with me? I haven't done anything."

"Well, that we shall see. Now answer me carefully. Do you know anything about what happened to Miss Duncan on the night she was killed?"

Deirdre's look of surprise seemed quite genuine. "Miss Duncan? No, miss, I don't. All I know is she went out walking and someone hit her on the head."

Meredith continued to look into the girl's eyes. She saw confusion, then a dawning sense of shock.

Deirdre leapt to her feet. "You think I did it? You think I hit Miss Duncan? But I didn't! I wouldn't! I wasn't even there."

"Then perhaps you can tell me exactly where you were that evening."

"I was in the music room, rehearsing for the Harvest Festival concert." Tears sprang to Deirdre's eyes. "There were six of us there. Ask any of them." She waved a hand at the door. "They'll tell you I was there."

Meredith raised a hand to silence the girl's outburst. "It's quite all right, Deirdre. I believe you. Now please sit down."

She sat, sniffling and hunting for a handkerchief.

Meredith watched her for a moment, then added quietly, "I trust you are no longer seeing Mr. Silkwood?"

Deirdre gave a violent shake of her head. "No, miss. He wouldn't see me again, anyway. He was really angry and upset with me when I told him that Miss Duncan had threatened to tell my parents about us. He said he'd deny everything, and that I was lying. He forbid me to ever go near him again."

Meredith struggled to control her anger. Men like Silkwood should be hung, drawn, and quartered. "I would say you are well rid of someone who treats you like that."

More tears slid down Deirdre's cheeks. "I only went to meet him because he was kind to me. He gave me things and said I was pretty. He was much nicer to me than my own father."

And there it was, Meredith thought, with a wave of compassion. The poor child was looking for a substitute to
replace her callous father. When would men ever learn to embrace their children, instead of governing them?

"Well, you have learned a hard lesson. I hope you remember it well."

"Yes, Mrs. Llewellyn." Deirdre sniffed again.

"And for heaven's sake, blow your nose."

She blew, long and hard, into the wisp of white cotton. "Thank you, Mrs. Llewellyn," she murmured, when she'd tucked the handkerchief back into her sleeve.

"You are now dismissed."

Obediently, Deirdre got up from her chair and slipped from the room.

Meredith absently rearranged the pens in the tray holding her inkwell. So Victor Silkwood had been extremely upset to learn that Kathleen intended to notify Deirdre's parents about their association. Upset enough to silence Kathleen permanently, perhaps? No doubt he would not want his wife to know about his indiscretions, particularly with a young lady of such a tender age.

Frowning, she glanced at the clock. The trick was to find out where he was and what he was doing the night Kathleen died. This seemed an auspicious time to pay the Silkwoods a social visit.

Meredith broached the subject after the midday meal as she left the dining hall with Felicity and Essie. "I've decided to pay Victor Silkwood a visit," she announced, as the three of them strolled down the corridor to the lounge. "We need to sell more tickets to our Harvest Festival concert, and the Silkwoods would be a good place to start."

Felicity stared at her. "The Silkwoods? Have you completely lost your mind? Didn't you just tell me that he was behaving like a cad with Deirdre Lamont? Why would you
invite such a despicable creature to attend a concert with our young ladies?"

Meredith sighed. "Under the circumstances, I think it is extremely doubtful that he would actually attend the concert. I merely want to use the sale of the tickets as an excuse to get some information."

"What kind of information?"

"Such as where that gentleman might have spent last Saturday evening."

Felicity paused at the door to the lounge, her eyebrows raised in comprehension. "You are suggesting that Victor Silkwood killed Kathleen?"

Essie, who had been trailing behind them as usual, reached them just as Felicity uttered the incredulous words.

"Oh my goodness!" Essie slapped a hand over her mouth. "Mr. Silkwood is a murderer?"

Fortunately her words were muffled by her hand.

"Shush!" Meredith looked quickly over her shoulder, then opened the door to the lounge and ushered her friends inside. After making quite sure they were alone, she said quickly, "We are only speculating at this point. Which is why we need to go to the Silkwood mansion."

"Now?" Essie looked as if she were about to step off a high cliff.

Felicity clicked her tongue. "Perhaps it would be better to leave Essie here. After all, if we are to trick that scoundrel into admitting he killed Kathleen, we can't afford to let him know our purpose."

Essie lowered her hand. "I want to be part of this. I want to come with you."

Meredith smiled at her. "Of course you shall come, Essie. We are going to need your assistance."

Essie's eyes widened. "In what way?"

"I've always maintained that if one wishes to know something, the best source is the servants. Therefore, while we are talking to Mr. and Mrs. Silkwood, we will need someone to slip away and charm the Silkwood's butler into answering a question or two."

Felicity uttered an skeptical laugh. "And you expect Essie to do the charming?"

"Who else?" Meredith laid her hand on Essie's arm. "You have to admit, Felicity, that a man would be hard-pressed to ignore the appeal of this face."

Felicity pursed her lips. "No doubt, but is she up to it? You know how she goes to pieces at the slightest provocation. What if she gives away our real purpose for the visit?"

"I do wish you would not speak of me as if I were not here." Essie raised her chin at Meredith. "I will be happy to talk to the butler and you can rest assured, he will not know the reason for me asking questions."

"Good. Then let us go now." Meredith opened the door again. "Felicity, if you would be so good as to fetch the tickets for me? I will go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Wilkins to make up a basket for Mrs. Silkwood. A few of those delicious macaroons should enhance our welcome, don't you think?"

"Without a doubt." Felicity grinned. "I had no idea you were so devious."

"One does what one has to do," Meredith murmured. "Essie, ask Reggie to get the carriage ready for us. Tell him we shall need him to drive us to the manor."

Essie nodded, then sped away, her skirts fluttering around her ankles as she disappeared around the corner.

"You're really going to trust her with such an important task?" Felicity's face registered doubt. "Essie can be so scatterbrained at times."

"She has a natural ability to charm money out of a miser." Meredith closed the door of the lounge. "I'm quite sure she'll be able to worm what we need to know out of any man. He would be utterly unable to resist."

Felicity snorted. "Well, it's a good job you're not asking me to do the charming. I'd as soon wring a man's neck to get what I want out of him."

"Which is precisely why we need Essie." Meredith patted her arm. "Do fetch the tickets for me. I'll meet you at the carriage in a few minutes."

Muttering something unintelligible, Felicity strode off down the corridor, almost colliding with a group of girls coming the other way.

Meredith headed in the opposite direction to the kitchen, where she found Olivia on her knees in front of the oven, stoking the coals with Mrs. Wilkins standing over her.

Quickly Meredith explained what she wanted, and the cook wasted no time in packing up a dozen or so coconut macaroons and a few maid of honor cakes to go along with them.

Felicity and Essie waited impatiently by the carriage when Meredith hurried out into the sunny outdoors. Of Reggie there was no sign.

"He said he had to mend a window lock," Essie explained. "He promised he wouldn't be long."

"We might as well wait in the carriage then." Meredith opened the door and scrambled up inside.

Felicity gave Essie a little push and she climbed up, too. The carriage bounced and rocked as Felicity took her seat opposite them.

"I do love the smell of leather," Essie said, patting the seat. "It's such a comforting smell."

"Stinks of wet horses if you ask me." Felicity peered out
the window. "How long is that dratted man going to—" She broke off with a sharp exclamation.