“Aye,” he replied, then scanned the mourners who slowly moved past the casket, and others who lingered for the opportunity to say a word of sympathy to the Mallorys.
That dark gaze met mine.
“It could be a coincidence.”
“You don’t believe in them any more than I do. Why would someone leave a single red rose?”
“Did ye perhaps see who might have left it?”
I shook my head. “No, it could have been anyone. Is it possible that the murderer is here?”
If so, it was bold, arrogant, almost as if… the murderer was sending a message?
What message? And could it possibly have to do with Charlotte Mallory?
The rain had increased, and mourners that hadn’t already departed quickly gave their condolences then left, making their way along the muddied path to their coaches.
Sir Edward and Mrs. Mallory also departed, with Daniel Eddington, leaving only the attendants who slowly lowered the casket into the grave, taking that sea of flowers and that red rose with it.
“There’s nothing to be done here,” Brodie said, holding his umbrella over both of us.
We were the last to leave the graveyard, Sir Edward and Mrs. Mallory, walking slowly ahead, Daniel Eddington behind them.
I glanced back as we reached the coach, but the only thing I saw were the graveyard workers who worked quickly to close the grave as the rain thickened. Everyone else was gone.
We didn’t speak of what we saw on the ride to Sussex Square, with no idea what it might mean, if anything.
We accepted my great-aunt’s invitation for a late luncheon. Lily was unusually quiet, barely touching her food.
“What is bein’ done to find who kilt her?” she suddenly blurted out.
Not exactly dining table conversation, I thought, with a look at my great-aunt.
“It’s quite all right,” she assured everyone, then with a look at me.
And to put an end to any objection on my part… “As I recall you were given to speaking out when anything was important, or not. This is quite important.”
When I would have given her a simple answer, for the most part because we didn’t actually know anything yet, Brodie’s hand closed around mine, stopping me.
“We have both been making inquiries on behalf of Miss Mallory,” he explained. “To the police constables who reported to the crime that night, and Mikaela has spoken with the reporter at the Times who wrote the article for the newspaper. He was there afterward.
“We dinna have any answers as yet,” he added. “But there are other persons to question who may have seen something that night.
“I know yer feelin’s in this,” he continued then, much like a father, I thought. And God knows he did understand, perhaps better than most.
“It’s difficult to wait, when ye’ve lost someone ye care about. But I will say that one small piece of information usually leads to another, then another. And ye must know that this one,”he looked over at me for emphasis, “is verra stubborn and determined.”
Lily’s sad gaze met mine.
“We both are,” Brodie assured her. “And we will find the one responsible. I promise ye. As far as ye are concerned, it’s important that ye continue with yer lessons just as if Miss Mallory was here. She would want ye to do that.”
She seemed to think about that. “May I be excused?” she politely asked.
“Of course, dear,” Aunt Antonia told her. “Perhaps Mikaela might join you in the sword room if you feel the need.”
Lily nodded, rose from her chair and laid her napkin on the table, just as any properly raised young lady might.
“I have found that a bit of exercise with a sword is a great reliever of frustration,” my great-aunt announced. “And as I recall, for you as well, my dear,” she told me.
