Frederick said, “Speaking of John, has he been to see you here at the hotel?”
Again, she blinked those wide hazel eyes. “John, here? When he sent me away for peace and quiet?” She chuckled but it sounded false.
Frederick’s heart sank. Rebecca, the innocent girl he’d known, the darling vicar’s daughter, was lying to him again.
He sat there feeling deflated. He felt more than saw Brixton’s concerned gaze on his profile.
The younger man cleared his throat and asked another question. “Don’t mean to embarrass you, miss, but any idea how and why Ambrose Oliver came to your room? Had he seen you, say, in the dining room, and somehow managed to learn your room number?”
“I don’t know. I suppose he might have asked the clerk or one of the maids for my room number. Or perhaps he saw me go inside at some point when I did not see him.”
Frederick roused himself to say—for Brixton’s benefit as well as Rebecca’s—“Miss Newport heard him knocking that night too. Apparently her room is nearest yours. She wondered if Oliver thought he was knocking onherdoor. She also indicated that you were aware of her previous acquaintance with the author.”
“Did she?” Miss Lane’s white throat convulsed. “Did she say how I knew?”
“Something about your chambermaid receiving a message from Mr. Oliver and you passing it along for her?”
“Oh yes. That’s right. I did.”
Frederick frowned. “Speaking of chambermaids. We still don’t know which one entered Mr. Oliver’s room the day before he died.”
She nibbled her lip. “Is that ... important?”
He grimaced. “Probably not. Bothering me though. Like something stuck in one’s teeth. Or a missing chess piece.” He nodded toward the nearby game board. “Only a pawn, but still ... troublesome. I think I will question Mary Hinton again.” He added on a chuckle, “Or line up all the maids and ask Mr. George to identify one!”
Brixton laughed, but Miss Lane did not seem to find it at all amusing.
Frederick glanced at the questions outlined in his notebook and asked, “And have you seen or heard anything else that might help us? Anything suspicious while you have been here?”
“Actually, yes.” She took a deep breath and upon its exhale said, “I saw the abbess.”
Not this again.A flicker of disapproval tightened his mouth. “Miss Lane...”
“I did! In the corridor yesterday morning, as well as my first night here. And of course I thought I saw her going belowstairs that night I ... happened into you and your brother. At least, I know I saw a figure in a black-hooded gown thatlookedlike a nun’s habit, from what I’ve seen in paintings.”
Brixton laughed again, but this time Frederick silenced him with a glare.
“Are you seriously telling us you saw an apparition ... thrice?”
“Or a real person who looked like one, yes.” She pursed her lips in frustration and Frederick saw her at six years old, pouting when she’d been denied something.
“I thoughtyouwould believe me, if no one else did. Apparently, I was wrong.” She stood, tucking the book under her arm. “Are we through?”
Her eyes glinted and her nostrils flared. Yes, he feared they were through before they had even begun.
———
Brixton excused himself to use the water closet. During his absence, Frederick took a few notes and was about to summon the next person when Lady Fitzhoward threw open the door with a bang.
“Miss Lane says you are interviewing guests. As I don’t wish to be disturbed during my nap later, I am here to be questioned now.”
“Th-thank you, my lady.”
Lady Fitzhoward entered, hair piled high in ornate style, its thickness in contrast to her sparse eyebrows. A wig perhaps? Her gown was equally ornate, a rich brocade in plum and grey. Her fashionable dress and coiffure fostered the illusion of a forty-year-old, while her lined face and drooping eyelids belied the appearance. He guessed her to be sixty at least.
And she still seemed familiar to him.
The woman sat without waiting to be asked, as befitted her station or at least her assurance.
