Alaric said, “Even though they are not the primary line, Edward’s branch of the family hold a highly elevated notion of the family’s station. Calling them high in the instep doesn’t come close to the reality.” He paused, then added, “Had I been in Percy’s shoes, having to deal with his parents and relatives, I might well have done the same.”
“I see.” Constance glanced around the circle, then asked, “When did Edward arrive? And why did he come?”
“I hadn’t expected him,” Percy said. “He simply turned up at lunchtime on Sunday. He’s never attended my house parties before, but apparently, he heard stories from some acquaintances of mine about what had gone on in years past and decided his presence was required to ensure nothing of a scandalous nature occurred. As he put it, ‘Nothing that might reflect adversely on the family name.’” Percy’s expression reflected his distaste for his cousin. “He’s nothing but a prig, but he cloaks his priggishness in supercilious, holier-than-thou arrogance, and frankly, it’s always proved easier to simply put up with him and wait for him to go away.” Percy met Barnaby’s eyes. “That was the tack I took this time, too. Concealing what I didn’t want him to know and waiting for him to go away.”
Constance glanced around again, then voiced the question that had to be hovering in everyone’s brain. “Could Edward have learned of your betrothal?”
Percy’s eyes widened, and he paled to a ghastly shade. “Good God, no!” After a second, he added, “Take it from me—if he had, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it. He would have badgered me night and day—that’s how he operates. He batters at one until one gives in and does as he wants. He’s relentless.” Percy blinked, then more calmly went on, “But he hasn’t said a word to me about the betrothal or Glynis.”
Given her experience of Edward, Constance found the assurance convincing; from the faint grimaces she caught on the others’ faces, they thought so, too.
For several moments, the six of them stood in the cool shade and grappled with all they’d heard, turning around this fact and that supposition, trying to piece what they now knew into a cohesive, understandable picture.
Eventually, Stokes stated, “While it’s tempting to put Edward at the top of our suspect list, there’s no evidence linking him to either crime.”
“No more than we can link any of the other gentlemen to the murders,” Alaric said.
Percy looked taken aback at the suggestion that his cousin might be the murderer, but from the others’ expressions, it was obvious to Constance that the rest of them were thinking along similar lines.
Barnaby humphed. “At least with Edward, we have a solid, established motive. One that potentially covers both murders.”
“Hmm.” Penelope wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure about that. Consider—Edward came here to ensure no scandal occurred to blot the family escutcheon, and instead, he commits two murders.”
Stokes grunted. “His intention in coming here is virtually an antimotive. If he’d learned of the betrothal, he might have wanted to disrupt it and ensure no marriage took place, but murdering the prospective bride to achieve that end would surely defeat his principal purpose.”
Penelope sighed. “I know it’s dangerous to make judgments of this type, but you have to admit that Edward is such a stuffy, finicky sort, it’s hard to see him coolly plotting and carrying out not just one murder but two. And if his motive was to end Percy’s betrothal, then we’re talking about premeditated murder—plotted, planned, and executed.” She shook her head. “That just doesn’t seem like Edward.”
“You also need to know,” Alaric said, “that Edward is deeply religious. His father’s a clergyman—”
“The Bishop of Lincoln’s right-hand man,” Percy glumly put in.
“—and Edward’s mother is a very pious lady.”
Stokes grunted. “If Edward’s not our man, and we discount Radleigh and Percy, that still leaves us with four gentlemen on our suspects list.” He looked at Percy. “You asked if Glynis could have been killed because she’d accepted your suit. Did she have any other suitors? Could she have been killed out of jealousy?”
Percy blinked. “I—I don’t know.” He looked lost. “I didn’t meet Glynis until late in the Season—it was at one of Lady Islay’s events.” Percy frowned, then his expression clouded. “Lady Islay is Guy Walker’s aunt, and I gathered that she’d invited Glynis at Guy’s suggestion.”
“Indeed?” Penelope looked at Alaric. “Didn’t you mention that Mr. Walker was known not to take rejection well?”
Stokes had his notebook out and open. “In fact,” he said, “you hypothesized that Mr. Walker was the sort who ‘might have bailed up Miss Johnson over a suspected liaison with some other man, and given her inexperience, she might well have said or done something that caused him to lose control.’” Stokes looked at Alaric. “Any further thoughts?”
Alaric grimaced. “I concede that scenario is possible. How probable…I can’t say.”
Percy looked sickly pale again. “Both Henry and Guy showed interest in Glynis early on. Before…” His expression grew stark. “I didn’t pay much attention, of course, especially after Glynis accepted my offer. But as we had to keep our engagement a secret, both Henry and Guy were still attentive, sniffing around… Glynis mentioned on Sunday night that she had to keep discouraging them and didn’t quite know how. That’s why I suggested Alaric as a gentleman she could safely cling to if she had need of an escort or to help put off Henry or Guy if they became too persistent.”
Alaric looked at Barnaby and Penelope. “That’s what I detected when Glynis approached me—that her request of my escort on the terrace was with the intention of sending a message to some man.” His lips twisted self-deprecatingly. “It just wasn’t the message I’d assumed it was.”
“Both Wynne and Walker are on our list,” Stokes said. “Neither has an alibi—Wynne claimed Mrs. Cleary was his, but that won’t hold.”
Percy was slowly shaking his head. “Surely not. I’ve known both of them for years.”
Constance had been following her own train of thought. “But where are Glynis’s letters?” She looked around the faces. “It seems the murderer must have taken them, but why?”
“Presumably because they held some clue to his identity.” Barnaby frowned. “We’ve been talking of Percy’s letters to Glynis, but there’s no reason to assume she hadn’t received letters from other gentlemen and kept those as well—especially any missives of a romantic nature.”
“I can imagine the murderer might have suspected she could have kept them and searched, then simply taken the lot rather than pick through them and risk missing one,” Stokes said.
“If he took them,” Alaric said, “by now he’ll have burned them. He’s too clever to hold onto something so incriminating.”
