The Prince in the Tower (9 page)

The men stood awkwar
dly, especially the two youngest.  They were obviously uncomfortable intruding on a member of the quality’s home.  Major Goodwillie even looked a trifle out of his element.  He made as if to sit, but caught himself abruptly when Kate did not.  Instead, she fixed her eyes on him and waited.

“A
nd how may I be of service to you gentlemen?” she inquired calmly.

The two young officers actually blushed red about the ears.  They had the unmistakable look of men whose collars where suddenly much too tight.

“It is my painful duty to report to you the death of one Adam Weilmunster,” the Major intoned.  “I understand he was engaged to the Lady Lucy.”

Kate acknowledged this with a slight raise of her brow.  “Certainly they were good friends,” she agreed readily.

“They were engaged, were they not?”

She raised her other brow.  “I know of no
reason why this should be of concern to you.”

“It is of concern to me
because, my lady,” his voice was overladen with sarcasm, “Adam Weilmunster was murdered.”

His words failed to produce the effect he obviously sought.  Kate realized at his expression that she had made a tactical blunder.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised to hear the news.”

Kate paused.  “Indeed, I am grieved and saddened over such a loss, but as this gentleman,” she indicated the young dragoon, “may have mentioned, I have been attending a sickbed this night.  I ca
n only apologize if fatigue causes me to seem unkind.”

She seated herself on the divan, once more in control of the situation, every inch the grand, kindly-toward-inferiors lady.  “Won’t you sit down, gentlemen?  Shall I ring for tea?  Or perhaps you would prefer something stronger?”  The only thing stronger they had in the house was the medicinal cordial Lady
Alice made each summer, but it packed a wallop, and she was half-hoping she might get the major blind drunk.  Nothing he said would be credible after such an event and would solve all their problems quite neatly.

But to her disappointment, Major Goodwillie appeared to be tea-total
while on duty, much to the chagrin of his men, who looked longingly at the decanter, as if a tot of something stronger might be just the ticket after this night’s grim work.  He also refused a seat, and Kate felt at a disadvantage as he towered over her in all his ramrod pudginess.

He took a notebook out of his breast pocket, licked his thumb, and continued as if he’d never stopped talking.

“The deceased, one Adam Weilmunster,” he said, as if Mr. Weilmunster was not a person, which got Kate’s hackles up, for as much as she had disliked him, still he was one of their own here in Oaksley, and the major was not.  “Murdered with a single bullet to the head,” he stated baldly, with no respect for the concern he obviously expected her to show.  “He was found on the bank of the river near the bridge leading to Bellevue.  A man answering the description of the Grey Cavalier,” the major paused in disgust, but managed to pull himself together enough to continue.  “Was seen standing over him searching the body.”

Kate didn’t so much as flick an eyebrow.  No blush of shame touched her cheek.  Not even the tiniest irritation of nerves marred her countenance so far down had she banked the embers of that memory.  It was as if it had happened long ago, to some other woman.

“It was very kind of you to come all this way at such an ungodly hour to inform us of this tragic event.”  She rose in polite dismissal, but the major wasn't done playing cat and mouse.  He simply stood, as he had in the foyer, looking at her as if he was waiting for her to crack, to break, to let slip an incautious word.  But if he thought she was going to be unnerved by his stare, she who had robbed, danced with her victims, dared them all to know her, he had a long wait, she vowed silently.

Some of the contempt she felt for him must have shown on her face, because his ruddy complexion darkened, his mouth tightened.  The two silently stared at one
another, Kate with a half-smile of amused contempt, the major with an angry glare.  The silence stretched long, the clock on the mantel ticked preternaturally loudly.

Before the situation became ludicrous and she started laughing, Kate broke the silence.  With great calm, she made as if to herd them to the doorway. 
“If that will be all, gentlemen,” she said briskly.  It was a statement rather than a question.  “You will certainly understand that my only consideration at the moment is for my sister.  I would be with her now.”

She didn’t stop to see if they were following, but led the way to the door.  Her tactic was wasted on her opponent. 

“About the Cavalier, my lady,” the major gritted his teeth audibly.  “Or I should say, the man dressed as that common thief known as the Grey Cavalier--”

“Yes?”  Kate managed to sound slightly bored.

“It doesn’t strike you as odd that someone of that description was seen standing over the body?”

“Everything about this appalling tragedy strikes me as odd, Major
Goodwillie.  I am not so used to killing as are you,” she said coldly.  “Now you will excuse me, gentlemen.  Curtis will be happy to show you out.”  Which was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.

But Major Goodwillie would not be rushed.

“Lady Katherine, do you know the whereabouts of your brother at this moment?

She blinked in confusion.  “Certainly.  He is in his bedchamber asleep, or was before the doorknocker sounded at such an hour.”

“And where was he earlier this evening?”

“He
was here, of course.  May I ask why--”

“But you said you were attending a sickbed this evening.  How would you know where he was?”  He said this gleefully, as if he had caught her in a lie.

Kate took a step forward, her eyes blazing, her hands clenched to fists.  “I do not have to know
the earl's
whereabouts each and every moment of the day to know that he did not kill Mr. Weilmunster.”

The Major handed the notebook to the nice young officer.  He jerked his head and the man took out a stubby pencil and began scribbling.  “Where they on good terms?  Did your brother--
the earl
--” he matched her tone snide for snide, “--like Mr. Weilmunster?”

“
They were fast friends.”

The Major smirked, his lip curling in a sneer. 
“How interesting.  According to my sources, your brother and the deceased did not like one another in the least.  In fact, did he or did he not bodily throw Mr. Weilmunster out of the house several evenings ago?”

Kate’s temper rose
ever higher, and with it her voice became more quiet, more precise.  “Really, Major, Bertie is just a boy.  How could he throw a grown man out bodily?”

Major Goodwillie strode about the room.  His big hands picked up the miniature of her grandparents on the sideboard.  She itched to grab it out of his sweaty palms.  He swung about suddenly.  “Come clean, madam!  Your brother hated
Adam Weilmunster!  He felt Weilmunster was being rude to his family and had him removed from the premises!  Adam Weilmunster threatened your sister with harm!  Come, come,” he tried to smile, but it was a smarmy effort at best.  “You and I both know how these things happen.  Your brother hated Adam Weilmunster.  Mr. Weilmunster disliked your brother, for he saw in your brother the impediment to his marriage to Lady Lucy.”

“My brother is not of an age to consent or not to consent to an engagement.  We are in the guardianship of our Uncle Richard.”

“They loathed one another.  Finally, Bertie cracked.  He saw Mr. Weilmunster, took his opportunity, and killed him on the bank of the river.  But the river was running low tonight and the body didn’t sweep away as he’d planned.”  The Major was losing his composure, with flecks of spittle flying from his red lips.  “He hated him, didn’t he?  I propose to you, madam, he hated Adam Weilmunster enough to kill him!”

Kate had had enough.  This man was as close to a lunatic as made no difference.  “I hated
Adam Weilmunster enough to kill him, major, though I assure you I did not.”  She looked him up and down.  “There are many people one might want to kill, but one seldom does.  More’s the pity.”

“We shall see.  I shou
ld like to question
the earl
.”

“Certa
inly not.  This charge made out of whole cloth.  Without a warrant, I order you to leave this house before I call the law.  My solicitor will certainly hear about your appalling behavior in the morning.”

While sh
e snapped out this speech, the major reached in his breast pocket and pulled out a folded document, which he handed her with a greasy smile.

Kate took it gingerly.  It was signed and covered with official looking seals, and the mai
n thrust seemed to be that the major had a warrant, allowing him to search her home and grounds and to question anyone he saw fit.

“I have my men searching the grounds even now--”

“How dare you?  Have you any idea with whom you are dealing?”  Kate spat.

“I most certainly do.”

Kate looked at him, all the loathing she felt in her eyes.  Then she began to smile, a slow, sneering smile, her eyes narrowed.  “No,” she said softly.  “You can’t even begin to imagine.”  Filled with righteous outrage, she stalked to the door of the salon, opening it with such a flourish that Lu and Caro tumbled into the salon like a couple of puppies.  Behind them stood Lady Alice, quivering in righteous fury.

The
two young officers braved the wrath of the commander and rushed to assist the girls to their feet.

“A
unt Alice, would you be kind enough to rouse Bertie from his bed, where a growing boy should be, and ask him to come downstairs to answer these ridiculous charges?”

Lady
Alice nodded and headed upstairs. 

“Caro, please inform Curtis that
we shall be needing the services of Mr. Gibble at his earliest convenience.”  Caro nodded, scampering off in bare feet. 

Lucy looked from one to the other, her eyes painfully large in her stunned face.  “Is it true?
  About Adam?” she whispered.  Kate put her arm about the stricken girl.  Lucy reached her hand up to clutch Kate’s.  She looked up as if she would be able to read the truth in her sister’s eyes.  Kate nodded.  Lucy gulped and blinked back tears.

“It will be alright, Lu.  Everything will be fine,” Kate murmured to her sister.  Lucy started to shake.  “Everything will be fine.” 
All the while the inane words were coming out of her mouth, Kate knew everything would not be fine.  There were some things in life she couldn’t solve, not matter how much her heart ached for her sister.

Ignoring the men, she guided Lu to the divan and pushed her down gently.  The young officer handed her a glass of cordial.  With a nod of thanks, she pressed it into Lucy’s hand.  She sipped obediently and a bit of color came back to her cheeks.

Caro skidded back into the room, her hair standing every which way, her blue eyes, so like Mama’s, Kate thought with a pang, wide with excited apprehension.

“Kate, there are more soldiers!  They have--”

Kate heard nothing else, for behind Caro was a soldier with an armful of what looked like rags.  Covered in briars and leaves and dirt, it gave off an aroma of wet earth and horse and wool.  On top lay a crushed hat, its remaining plume forlorn and bedraggled and broken.  He set it down on the table.  For a moment they all stared at the unappetizing heap, then a bit of what looked like drowned rat rolled soddenly off the top of the pile, landing on the carpet with a squelch.

No one spoke.  They all stood and stared, till Caro giggled,
giddy with nerves.  Before the major could speak, Lady Alice entered the salon with the mien of an avenging angel.  Behind her followed Bertie, sketchily dressed in a nightshirt tucked hastily in his breeches, his nightcap still on his head. He reached up and pulled it off as he walked nervously into the salon.  He stood, between a boy and a man, nervously twisting the offending bit of cloth in his hands.

When had he grown so tall, Kate wondered, her throat aching.  He had the Thoreau height. 
At twelve, he stood almost as tall as Lady Alice.

Please, Holy Mother, don’t let anything happen to him.  I promise I’ll go to Mass every day and devote my life to your service,
she promised wildly.  And this time, she meant it with all her heart.  But God was either not listening or unimpressed, for Major Goodwillie licked his lips and leapt for the jugular.

“Your lordship,” he sneered to the boy, “I must ask you your whereabouts this evening between the hours of,” he snapped
his fingers a soldier.  The young man hastily consulted the notebook.

"Seven
--”

"Seven
of the clock and midnight?”

Bertie flushed to the roots of his hair.  “I--I was here.”

Kate’s confidence dropped with her heart.  She exchanged a glance of despair with Lady Alice.  Bertie was lying.  It was obvious to everyone.  Not that she believed for a moment that he had committed murder, or even highway robbery--but then again, what else could make him look so guilty?