The Vital Principle (26 page)

“Mr. Gaunt,” she said. “May I speak to you?”

“Go on ahead, Denham,” he called to the others as they clustered around the front door. “I’ll return to the manor, shortly.”

He turned back to Pru, who moved past him into the hallway. She waited in silence, watching the others leave. When they were alone, she gestured to the door of the room where Mrs. Marley rested.

Interpreting her gesture as a desire for privacy, he closed the door. “What’s amiss?”

She turned away, studying the oak floor. “I—I wanted to speak to you.”

“Yes?” he replied a little impatiently. He couldn’t help glancing at his pocket watch. A quarter to two.

She raised her head and met his gaze, her gray eyes enormous. “You must remember that, well, painful scene….”

His lips twitched. “Forgive me, but there have been several. To which painful scene were you referring?” Surely she wasn’t about to confess to murdering Lord Crowley? A cold stone lodged in his stomach.

Apparently, she wasn’t amused. Her eyes hardened. “May, Lord Crowley’s
widow
….” She glanced in the direction of the stairs.

Overhead, they could hear the chatter of two women and light footsteps.

“What about her?” Knighton asked.

Miss Barnard bit her lower lip. Her hands twisted into a knot at her waist. “She’s going to have to go to the reading of the will this afternoon. She’s legally his wife. She has a right to be there.”

The coldness in his stomach grew. If May attended the reading of the will, there would without a doubt be repercussions. Miss Barnard’s earlier remark about murder might prove to be prophetic.

A protest rose in his throat, but he bit it back.

Perhaps May’s attendance would flush the murderer.

Taking a step closer, Miss Barnard touched his hand with the icy tips of her fingers. Her eyes caught his, a beseeching expression darkening them. “Lady Crowley’s cousin, Miss Brumbly, has been tutoring her. If she doesn’t speak too much, perhaps the others won’t recognize her. No one takes much notice of a maid. No one said anything when she entered the room this afternoon, did they?”

“Miss Spencer will be hysterical,” he replied, trying to gauge how likely it was that Crowley’s betrothed would shriek and collapse in a fit of vapors over the news she’d been engaged to a married man. The idea made him reluctant to join the group at the manor. He loathed emotional scenes, even if they did tend to provide invaluable information. “Don’t you think she’ll be upset?”

He caught an expression on her face that was almost a smile. She pressed her lips together and glanced at the floor. A gleam of laughter lightened her eyes before she lowered them. “You’re not afraid of a few tears, are you?”

“Not if they’re kept below a certain number—say five or six. Any more is sheer hysteria.” He grimaced, realizing he’d never felt closer to a woman. The thought was more than a little unsettling.

A low chuckle shook her shoulders. She finally glanced up at him. Her eyes positively danced with silver lights. “This is dreadful, you know. We ought to be ashamed. It’s a
terrible
situation.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. I can’t abide this rampant emotionalism.” He straightened his shoulders, wishing he dared to kiss her again. “I suppose you’re correct. Young Lady Crowley has a right to hear the reading of her husband’s will.”

“Then you’ll escort her? Take care of her?”

“Of course.” He felt suddenly old and weary. “Will you stay here with Mrs. Marley?”

“Until she recovers.” She hesitated. “There is one more thing….”

He groaned. What other horrors could she foist upon him? “You’re not going to confess, are you?”

“Certainly not. I have nothing to confess!” Fists clenched at her sides, she looked like she would like nothing better than to strike him.

“You asked about the poison, however. A singularly foolish maneuver.” He leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest. He studied her flushed face with a cynical eye, wondering what quality she possessed that made it impossible to resist teasing her.

“Indeed, very foolish of me.” She struggled visibly for control. After two deep breaths, her high color faded to a slight flush. “However, I do have something I should tell you.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly two. Perhaps we could speak after the reading of the will?”

“Yes. That would be
lovely
if you could spare a few minutes of your precious time
after
the will is read. By all mean, escort May to the manor and get on with it.” With those words, she threw open the doors and stamped up the stairs, her back rigid with frustration.

He heard several high-pitched voices rise and fall, and then the scurrying of feet. After a few moments, a tiny, gray-haired woman hurried down the stairs. She was followed by a woman dressed in an expensive, heavy black silk dress with jet beads sewn down the front. His brows lifted as he recognized the elegantly dressed blond as Crowley’s widow, May. Behind them stood Pru.

Studying the widow, he realized Pru was correct. If he hadn’t known the woman in black was Crowley’s maid, he’d never have guessed it. At least not until she opened her mouth.

“You've no call to order me about,” she complained while Pru draped a dark cashmere shawl around the widow’s shoulders. “I'm Lord Crowley’s wife. They can just wait ‘til I arrive for the reading, can't they?”

The elderly lady’s hand twitched and gave May a sharp tap on the wrist. “Gracious. We must strive for graciousness at all times.”

Pru stepped in front of the pair. She adjusted May’s bonnet. “Please, May. Just be patient with the dowager. You must appreciate that Miss Spencer has no idea, either.” She turned to Knighton for a moment. “This is Miss Brumbly, Mr. Gaunt. She’ll go with you—”

“And who’s to blame, I asks you? Not me,” May cut off Pru. “And why do I need this old ninny?”

“Because you can’t walk to the manor with a man, alone,” Pru said.

“I'm a widow. I can do just as I please, as the saying is.”

“Perhaps. However, it will look better,” Pru replied in a painfully soothing voice. “And perhaps Miss Brumbly can help smooth things over. This is bound to be, well, a trifle unpleasant.”

From May’s attitude, Knighton thought Pru used a lamentable and wholly unwarranted optimism in describing the scene ahead of them.
Unpleasant
? There would be women shrieking and having hysterics all over the library.

“Shall we leave?” he asked, grimly determined to get the next few hours over with.

May eyed him up and down. Then she smiled in a decidedly predatory way and slipped a black-gloved hand through his elbow. “La, yes! And high time, too. I, for one, want to know what my poor, dear Henry gifted me. His wife.” Her plump lips curved with satisfaction. “His dear wife.”

Before May dragged them through the door, Pru caught Miss Brumbly. She leaned forward, speaking quietly. He tilted his head to listen, although May’s wandering gaze forced him to stare at the brass doorknob to avoid any unfortunate conclusions.

“Miss Brumbly, a few words,” she said quietly.

“Yes, of course.”

“There are bound to be, um, questions when you arrive at the manor. I believe it would be best if you were to take the lead and explain the situation to the Crowley’s lawyer.”

“The situation?” Miss Brumbly asked, her pale blue eyes wide.

Pru’s gave a quick nod toward May. “While Lord Crowley was happily married to May, he continued an unfortunate engagement with Miss Spencer. She is currently visiting Lady Crowley.”

“Visiting
Lady Crowley
?” Miss Brumbly stared at May, her mouth opening and shutting in confusion. “Have I met her? I don’t recall….”

“I mean, the dowager. At the manor.” Somehow, Pru managed to keep her voice even. He had to admire her for it. Frankly, he was in agony trying to stifle his laughter. She shot him a quick look before continuing with an air of dogged determination. “When you introduce May, Lord
Henry
Crowley’s widow, it would be kind of you to explain that Lord Crowley fell so much in love with her, that he married her out of hand. However, due to his deep respect and affection for Miss Spencer, he delayed announcing his marriage for fear of hurting her. He was hoping, in fact, to speak to her privately during their recent house party. Unfortunately, he passed away before he was able to do so.” She stared at Miss Brumbly’s blank face. “Is that clear?”

“Is what clear?”

He coughed to cover a chuckle. Pru pretended not to hear him, although there was a significant increase of color in her cheeks. He had to admit he admired her efforts to provide a reasonable explanation for Crowley’s appalling behavior. And unlike Henry Crowley, she seemed determined to do the right thing.

Would a woman who poured cyanide in Crowley’s brandy be so thoughtful toward his widow? Of course, one could argue that Crowley’s treatment of the women around him was sufficient excuse for any kind and considerate woman to poison him.

“Miss Brumbly, please concentrate. Think of poor May. That is, the newly widowed Lady Crowley. There will be questions. Can you remember what I told you?”

“Of course I can remember. I’m not a child.” To everyone’s surprise, she repeated Pru’s words with amazing precision.

May watched them, her lips squeezed into a petulant line, tapping her foot. “Can we go?”

Opening his mouth, he clamped it shut when both Miss Brumbly and Pru stared at him. Then the two women transferred their stern gazes to May.

“May we go?” Miss Brumbly corrected.

“And since it will undoubtedly be awkward for poor May because of her recent widowhood, perhaps you’d be kind enough to explain the situation
for
her, Miss Brumbly.”

“I quite understand,” Miss Brumbly agreed.

“Thank you,” Pru replied. Moving closer to May, she arranged a small black veil over her face. “There you are, May—Lady Crowley. You look lovely.” She caught Knighton’s glance. She nodded abruptly to him before he opened the door and offered his free elbow to Miss Brumbly.

With ladies on either side of him, Knighton kept up polite conversation the entire way from Dower house to the manor. Or rather, May attempted to practice the art of conversation by commenting on the weather. And expounding on her opinion that she ought to be able to put off her black mourning and wear pale gray or lavender with jet trim in a few months, considering that fair ladies did not appear their best in plain black.

Miss Brumbly spent her time correcting May’s grammar with varying degrees of emphasis. Knighton concentrated on getting to the manor and trying not to pull out his timepiece every two feet to glance at the time.

By the time they arrived, it was nearly two-thirty. The butler opened the door and ushered them into the library in stately silence. The lawyer was seated at Lord Crowley’s desk, chatting with the dowager and the uncle of the deceased, Mr. Stephen Hereford. Surprisingly, the rest of the guests including Miss Spencer, the Jekylls, Lord Thompson, and George Denham were also seated near the desk. The only missing members of their party were the Howard ladies, Mrs. Marley, and Pru.

“Mr. Gaunt!” the dowager said, noticing Knighton at the door. “Who—oh.” Her lips drooped. “Miss Brumbly and—oh, dear.”

He ushered the two ladies inside. “I hope we’re not late?”

“Not at all,” the slight, dapper lawyer assured him. He rustled some papers on the desk briskly. “We have yet to start. Would you have a seat?” He examined the two ladies, his brown eyes lingering on the veiled face of May. “And perhaps some introductions might be in order?”

“My cousin, Miss Brumbly,” the dowager said in a fading voice. She kept casting desperate glances at Knighton.

After seating the ladies, he strode to the desk and leaned over to shake the lawyer’s hand. “I’m Mr. Knighton Gaunt, of Second Sons, Inquiries. The late Lord Crowley requested I join his house party. I hope you don’t mind if I attend the reading?”

“Not at all.” The lawyer raised his sandy brows. “You are a private inquiry agent, is that correct?”

“Yes. If you have any questions, perhaps we could discuss them after the reading of the will?”

“Of course,” the lawyer said. “And I should introduce myself, Reginald Timberlake, of Timberlake and Sons. We’ve had the honor of serving the Crowley family for a number of years. The late Lord Crowley made his will with us less than a year ago when he inherited his title, with additional revisions after his engagement to….” He glanced first at May and then Miss Spencer. “Well, he modified it with the intention of rewriting the entire thing after his, um, marriage. In any event, we have the basic will and the behests as they stood three months ago.” He nodded at the dowager who stared at her cousin as if willing her to take the newly widowed May and depart as rapidly as possible.

Timberlake tapped his fingers on the desk and rifled through his sheaf of papers one more time. Then he focused a smile on the young woman in black. “And who might this be?”

Everyone stared at May. Knighton turned, prepared to introduce her and make liberal use of Miss Barnard’s kind explanation when Miss Brumbly raised her chin. She announced, “This is the unfortunate Lord Crowley’s wife.”