So I smile.
Mama would be so proud, at both the display of decorum and my ready implementation of her lessons. She often complains that we ignore her, and while there is a healthy dollop of validity in the lament, the sheer repetition of her words has a corrosive effect: At some point, it becomes impossible to ignore her.
“I shall leave it with you, then?” I ask cheerfully.
Startled, Sebastian rises to his feet. He does not know he has failed my test but senses he has fallen short in some way, and seeking to reverse it, he asks me to tell him more about the shawl. “You say it was from this season? You recognize the design?”
It is too little too late.
He can show all the interest in my theory he wishes, but it will not make a difference. I am determined to find the killer while Sebastian is still chasing his tail among the drunken revelers in the village’s seedier taverns. To that end, I tell him everything I know.
He will not be able to claim later that I withheld vital information.
“It is the handiwork of Madame Valenaire, a fashionable modiste in Bond Street. Although the design decorating the border of the shawl is not new, the color scheme she uses for the rosettes was introduced this year. It has spawned many imitators, but none are as fine as the original,” I explain.
Solemnly, Sebastian gestures to the bench and urges me to sit down to discuss it further.
“Thank you but no,” I reply firmly, citing another engagement, which is not exactly true and not fully a lie. “I have already dallied too long and must be going. Au revoir!”
He inhales sharply as though to ask me to wait but thinks better of it, and my smile broadens as I imagine him puzzling over his misstep.
Yes, Seb darling, do please review your actions until you can identify where it all went wrong and then take pains never to do it again.
My heart hammers at the prospect of his never doing it again, because we are no longer romantically entangled. He cannot offend me if he does not speak to me.
This unpleasant thought follows me back to the house, and although I want to throw myself onto my bed and have a good cry over the demise of my perfect relationship, I must do right by Mr. Keast. Taking Sebastian’s comments under consideration—becauseIrespecthimwithout reservation—I realize there is some validity in his observation regarding Miss Nutting and Miss Braithwaite. Subscribing to the full humanity of the Incomparable, I nevertheless concede that navigating a dark road alone in the middle of the night might require more spine than either young lady could muster.
Does the same apply to their mothers? Would Mrs. Nutting or Mrs. Braithwaite have the courage to travel the distance with only a modicum of light to avenge themselves on a lover?
In contemplating this supposition, I defer again to Sebastian, who does not believe the older women’s charms would have appealed to Mr. Keast. Furthermore, theyaremature women, which means they are intimately acquainted with society, with its symbols of status. Having invented an impoverished widow to take the blame, they would have ensured the shawl Eternally Devoted used was commensurate with her situation, and having nothing more ancient than Madame Valenaire’s finest, they would have selected another murder weapon or taken the garment with them when they left.
By that same token, their daughters must be exonerated as well.
Even the greenest country girl knows the value of an expertly made silk shawl.
Only someone for whom all shawls look alike would have made that mistake.
A man!
I am describing a man!
Suddenly, the most confounding aspect about the crime makes sense.
Amanstrangled Mr. Keast to death.
Amanwrote the overwrought letters in the style of the prevailing gothic.
Amanleft the shawl behind as evidence of the killer’s identity.
Amanbungled the murder from top to bottom.
Well, “bungled from top to bottom” is a little strong.
As far as murders go, the steward’s was successful in that the victim is dead and the culprit remains unknown. If Sebastian, his father, and Mr. Jenner get their way, the culprit will continue to remain unknown, as none of them are on the correct trail.
Sebastian issoclose.
He has identified the correct sex, but his thinking is still muddled.
