Bella leaned over to pick up the bloody gloves to take them into the house. A dark shape drew her attention. She reached under the bench.
“What is it?” Ellinbourne asked.
Bella pulled out a small pistol. “A muff pistol,” she said, as she studied the weapon lying along the palm of her hand. It was a small, elegant piece, with gold veining incised down the barrel and a companion floral motif inlaid over the butt of the pistol.
Ellinbourne frowned. He took the small gun from her and examined it.
“I had one when I was in Brussels,” Bella told them, “But not as fancy as this one. Mine had scrimshaw on the handle,” she said absently. She frowned, remembering those days.
“Did you ever use it?” Ann asked tentatively.
“Once,” Bella replied honestly before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to talk about that time and didn’t want Ann or Ellinbourne to ask. “I don’t think it has been under the bench long. I think that is the weapon used on Lord Candelstone. Though his wound bled a great deal, the wound was not large. Something a small caliber gun like this might cause.”
Ellinbourne agreed.
Bella stood up. Another wave of dizziness assailed her. She grabbed on to the Duke’s forearm to keep from falling.
“Are you sure you are well?” he asked, as he steadied her.
‘I will be,” she assured him, letting go of his arm. “I’m going to slip away up the servants' staircase. You return to your guests. I’m fine now, but I do thank you for your concern.”
“What about the pistol?” Ann asked.
Bella glanced down at the gun the Duke held.
“I’ll take it,” Ellinbourne said. He stuck it in his jacket pocket. “And I’ll see that Nowlton gets it. He is too preoccupied with Lord Candelstone to bring it to his attention at the moment.”
“Thank you, your grace,” Bella said. She skirted around Ann and walked swiftly to the side door she’d used earlier to get to the terrace and slowly climbed the stairs.
She laid the ruined gloves on her vanity. The events of the evening continued to affect her. She felt shaky and weak, quite like she had the evening she shot the Vizconde Miguel Carrasco-Torres.
CHAPTER7
DR. MERLIN NOWLTON
Lady Malmsby, after consultation with Mr. Harold, suggested a drapery from the music room for a makeshift litter.
“It will get bloody, and you’ll never get the blood out,” Merlin warned.
“I know. It will afford me an excuse to replace them,” she said blithely.
Lady Catherine suddenly sobbed loudly as the men organized the makeshift litter.
“Catherine!” chastised Lady Malmsby. “Enough drama. We don’t have time for you to enact a Cheltenham tragedy. You need to assist Merlin. If you cannot provide the help he requires, you cannot be in the room while Merlin attends to Candelstone. You can’t have it both ways, you can’t indulge in dramatic histrionics and be a helper for the doctor. It is one or the other. You must decide and decide now.”
Lady Catherine stopped crying, though her face looked like crumpled paper. She gave one more shuddering sniff.
She hovered behind and beside the men, continually wringing her hands. As they carried Candelstone upstairs in their makeshift litter, she clung to the balustrade with one hand while in the other she clenched a handkerchief tight against her mouth. At the top of the stairs, as they maneuvered him into the bedroom, she pulled it away and waved it to get attention. “Don’t you think we should send for Dr. Walton?” she asked.
“Why, when we have an excellent doctor in the house?” asked Lady Malmsby, trailing behind her.
“But Merlin is so young,” Lady Catherine said, wringing her hands again. “And he wears spectacles. Does he have the knowledge to treat my dear William?”
“Catherine! Have you paid no attention to the family? Merlin has had years of extensive medical education in Scotland!” declared Lady Malmsby.
Merlin laughed. “Don’t fret, Grandmother. I often get doubts due to my age.” He directed the men on how to get Lord Candelstone gently in the bed with the least pain for his lordship, then looked toward his aunt. “I assure you, Aunt Catherine, I have extensive training with some of the best surgeons in Edinburgh. It would take too long to call Dr. Walton to come here and Candelstone needs helpnow. Immediate care is often the difference between life and death.”
Lady Catherine whimpered agreement, still wringing her hands.
