The Sinister Spinster (24 page)

"A man, of course," Elinore replied, surprisingly sedate as she reclined on her chaise longue, calmly sipping her tea. "And a marquess in the bargain. There is no more overbearing species on the planet, I do assure you. Why do you think I refused him?"

The wry observation brought Elizabeth up short, and she blushed to think what she had said and to whom she had said it. Elinore had in a matter of a few days become a very dear friend, but not so dear that Elizabeth could afford to forget the disparity in their stations. She cast the other woman a guilty look over her shoulder.

"I beg pardon, my lady," she began hesitantly, "I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, nonsense, Elizabeth!" Elinore snapped, her complacent air vanishing as she sat up and set her cup on the table. "Don't 'my lady' me! I should have thought we were far beyond that."

The genuine hurt she heard in the other woman's voice and saw reflected in her light gray eyes had Elizabeth feeling immediately contrite, and she returned to her chair with a sheepish smile.

"We are," she said, reaching out to briefly squeeze Elinore's clenched hand. "Forgive me for implying otherwise. It is just that his lordship has me so vexed, I vow I cannot seem to think."

"Falconer has that affect upon some women, I have noted," Elinore replied after a moment, studying Elizabeth in her disconcertingly keen manner. "Thankfully he never had that affect upon me; another reason I refused him, by the by. How long have you been in love with him?"

The cool question had Elizabeth leaping from her chair, her face blazing and then paling as she met the other woman's assessing regard. She sat back down with an unladylike
plop
.

"Is it so obvious?" she asked, praying Adam hadn't guessed the truth she thought she'd taken such pains to hide.

"Only to someone who cares for you both," Elinore assured her, and this time it was she who gave Elizabeth's hand a gentle pat. "But don't worry, I shan't tell a soul, and his lordship is far too thick-headed to notice. Unless he chooses to do so, of course."

Elizabeth decided it would be wisest to ignore that cryptic observation for the moment. "What now?" she asked, forcing herself to concentrate on more immediate concerns.

"Now we wait," Elinore replied, settling once more against the plump cushions and looking thoughtful. "Papa is returning in a few days, perhaps as early as tomorrow, and he writes that he is bringing us news that will finally settle this unpleasantness once and for all."

"That is good," Elizabeth said with a relieved sigh, feeling much of the weight easing from her shoulders. She knew both Adam and Alexi were working diligently on her behalf, and although she appreciated their efforts and had complete faith in the outcome, she was also unwilling to sit by and do nothing while others cleared her name. That was why she'd gone to Lady Elinore to ask for her help.

Since the day of the murder, she and the other woman had spent several hours debating the mystery of the missing papers and Mr. Colburt's death. Their plotting sessions sometimes involved Lady Barrington, and she was deeply touched by both women's willingness to be of assistance. Of course, lately their talks had only been between Elinore and herself, but that was because Lady Barrington was occupied with a new lover. Or at least that was what Elinore had told her, lifting her eyebrows with a worldly acceptance Elizabeth couldn't quite bring herself to emulate.

"He also writes that your friend Bronyeskin has been breaking hearts and causing scandal everywhere he goes," Elinore was continuing, her full lips pursed in disapproval. "Rather swift work on his part, don't you think, considering the wretch has been in London but a handful of days?"

Elizabeth smiled, thinking of Alexi. "His highness could create a scandal in under a minute, if such was his intent," she said, and then frowned, wondering if indeed a scandal of some sort
was
Alexi's intent. It made for an intriguing possibility.

"Perhaps." Elinore gave an irritated shrug. "At least we shan't have to worry about his returning to plague us. With everything in place for the Czar's fête, he will be far too occupied to come to the country."

They continued talking and planning for the next half hour before Elizabeth excused herself and returned to the drawing room. Since Lady Derring had yet to give her her
conge
, she still considered herself to be in the countess's employ, and she was determined to carry out her duties until the end. Her ladyship might still give her the sack, but she was hanged if she'd let her have the satisfaction of claiming it was because she'd not given proper service.

Elizabeth wasn't surprised to find the drawing room all but deserted upon her return. Less than half a dozen guests remained, Lady Barrington among them, and when
she saw Elizabeth hovering in the doorway she gestured her forward with a graceful wave.

"Dear Miss Mattingale, are you quite all right?" she asked, her blue eyes bright with concern as they studied Elizabeth. "That pestilent beast! I cannot imagine why the Derrings allow him to remain. He is the outside of enough."

Although she more than shared the duchess's assessment of Mr. Derwent's character, the presence of the other guests had Elizabeth holding her tongue. "I believe they allow him to remain because of Mr. Carling," she said at last. "Mr. Colburt's death has been quite hard on him."

"I cannot think why," the duchess opined with a sniff. "He was as big a fool as that tedious fop Derwent. Which reminds me," she added, sliding Elizabeth a quizzing look, "do you really think he meant it when he said he knew who killed Mr. Colburt? I own I find it difficult to believe."

"As do I," Elizabeth agreed. "Mr. Colburt was also his friend. One would think if he had any useful information of the crime he'd have told the earl at once."

"That is so," the duchess responded with a nod. "Doubtlessly he was bragging for effect; a dangerous thing, considering the real killer could have overheard him and be moved to silence him. How fortunate for his health that he is as ignorant as he is vicious."

Elizabeth started to agree and then stopped, frowning as a sudden memory shimmered to life in her mind. "I hope the same might be said of Mr. Carling."

Lady Barrington's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"

"The night of the murder, Mr. Derwent seemed to be hinting that Mr. Carling knew more than he was telling," Elizabeth replied, lost in thought. "I remember Mr. Carling seemed quite upset and was trying to hush him even before Lord Falconer intervened." Then she shook her head.

"But that's nonsense," she said, feeling decidedly foolish
. "It makes even less sense than if Mr. Derwent had some knowledge of the crime. Given his devotion to Mr. Colburt, he would certainly have shared whatever he knew with his father so that the killer could be brought to justice. Keeping quiet would make no sense, unless he was doing so to hide his involvement with the theft of his father's papers."

Lady Barrington gave a startled gasp.
"Mr. Carling
took the papers?" she demanded incredulously. "But that is infamous!"

Elizabeth blanched in horror at what she'd inadvertently let slip. At least the duchess had kept her voice low-pitched, and a frantic glance about showed that the other guests seemed oblivious to the outburst and were deep in their own conversations. Vowing to be more circumspect in the future, she leaned toward the other woman in a confiding manner.

"I have no proof, you understand," she whispered, once she'd finished sharing her suspicions. "But Lord Falconer agrees with me. He says it's precisely the sort of prank they would pull."

"And so it is," the duchess agreed, her lips tightening in outrage. "A malicious schoolboy trick that not only put you in danger but the earl as well. His career in the government would be ruined if it ever became known that his half-witted son was helping himself to the contents of his dispatch box. Indeed, I daresay there is nothing Derring wouldn't do to keep that bit of gossip quiet. How interesting."

Elizabeth was about to ask what her grace found of such interest when Lady Derring reentered the room. Her employer's return put an end to Elizabeth's freedom, and after murmuring her apologies to Lady Barrington, she made her way to the countess's side.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening biting her tongue and catering to the older woman's increasingly peevish demands. Her ladyship seemed determined to make her lose her temper, and by night's end Elizabeth
was more than of a mind to oblige her. Adam and the others had best solve the mystery of the missing papers and Mr. Colburt's death soon, she thought with an irritated scowl. If they did not, she'd likely end in the docket for strangling her irksome employer.

Her duties kept Elizabeth working through dinner, and it was approaching midnight before she was done. Usually the guests would be up and indulging themselves, but the funeral and dreary weather had cast a decided pall over the household and everyone retired early. Elizabeth never thought to miss their noise, but as she lit her candle and began making her way toward the front of the house, she couldn't help but find the oppressive silence disconcerting.

The darkened hallway seemed full of shadows and shades, the meager light cast by her flickering candle scarce piercing the stygian blackness. When she drew even with the door leading to the earl's study the long clock in the hall began tolling out the hour, and she almost dropped her candle as she gave a start of fright She was mentally cursing herself for her foolishness when an arm snaked out of the darkness and a hand clamped over her mouth.

"It's me," a familiar voice whispered in her ear, and then she was free. She whirled around, the flame of her candle dancing as she glared up at Adam.

"Adam!" she gasped, clutching her candle even tighter. "You frightened me half to death! What are you doing skulking about at this hour?"

"What am I doing skulking about?" he demanded incredulously. "What about you? Why aren't you in bed? And set that candle down before you drop it. You'll set your skirts aflame." And the candle was plucked from her fingers and placed on the hall table.

With her hand free she doubled up her fist and struck him on the arm as hard as she could. "If I had dropped it, it would be all your fault, you wretch!" she hissed, her heart hammering with fear and rising temper. "And you
haven't answered my question. What are you doing creeping about like a housebreaker?"

For a moment she didn't think he would answer her. He looked coldly furious, and there was a grimness about his eyes that she'd seen the day of Colburt's death. She was wondering if she should repeat her demand or take her leave when he suddenly reached out to take her hand in his.

"It's just as well you're here," he said, turning her toward the study. "You're a sensible sort, and I am in need of help."

Elizabeth had to hurry to keep up with his longer stride. "What sort of help?" she asked, aware of the tension shimmering about him like a halo. "Adam, what is going on?"

"I was to meet Carling," he said, pushing open the door to the study. "He was going to tell me who took the papers and killed Colburt. Unfortunately there has been a complication."

"What sort of complication?" she asked, and then gave a horrified gasp at the sight of Mr. Carling sprawled face-down on the floor of the study, blood seeping from his head.

"This sort," Adam said calmly. "Ring for the footman, would you, and ask him to ride for the doctor? We seem to be in need of his services."

"He will live," the doctor pronounced, wiping his hands as he rose to his feet. "He'll need to be watched but, God willing, he should make a full recovery."

The earl sagged at the news and his wife began sobbing piteously into her kerchief. Adam paid them no heed, his concentration fixed on the still figure lying against the pillows.

"When will he regain consciousness?" he asked, staring at Carling as if by the sheer force of his will he
could make the younger man open his eyes and begin speaking.

"Oh, not until morning, perhaps even later than that," the doctor replied with a wave of his hand. "Wounds to the head can be quite serious, don't you know, and there is no predicting how the patient may respond. 'Tis best to wait and allow the brain to recover in its own good time."

Adam's lips thinned in annoyance, but he accepted the doctor's diagnosis. Carling had roused slightly while they were carrying him to his rooms, but his slurred mutterings made little sense. However ill it pleased Adam, there was nothing to be done but wait until morning and hope to heaven Carling would still retain what few brains he possessed when he next opened his eyes.

The Derrings lingered at their son's bedside until the doctor gently but firmly ordered them from the room. The countess paused on her way out to whisper something to Elizabeth, and Adam's eyes narrowed in speculation. His suspicions were proven correct when she walked over and sat on the chair beside Carling's bed. A quick glance at the physician showed the older man to be deep in his discussion with Carling's valet, and Adam wasted tittle time in hurrying to Elizabeth's side.

"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered, taking care to keep his voice pitched low despite his fury.

She glanced up at him, her expression making it plain she considered him hopelessly dull-witted. "Sitting with Mr. Carling," she said, using the tone usually reserved for the very young or the very old. "Her ladyship wants me to sit with Mr. Carling and—"

"To the devil with what her ladyship wants!" Adam interrupted angrily, and then lowered his voice when both the doctor and the valet glanced avidly in their direction.

"To the devil with her ladyship," he repeated, his jaw clenching in determination, "you're not sitting up with Carling, and that's the end of it. Not only is it improper, but it's dangerous as well. There's a killer at work in this
household, and I won't leave you unprotected. What does she think you'll do if he comes back to finish what he has started?"

Elizabeth blanched, her aquamarine eyes going wide with horror. "Just so," he said, giving a grim nod. "I'll speak with the countess tomorrow and explain things, and in the meanwhile I'll set my own man to watch over Carling. He'll be fine, I promise you. Now go to bed, Elizabeth. You're exhausted."