“It’s no good, Francis,” Josiah said, as he lifted a hand and placed it to Lord Ridlington’s neck, checking his pulse. “He’s fading.”
They both reared back a little from Lord Ridlington. Phoebe could feel all of their eyes turning on her, but she didn’t know what to do. She supposed many wives would sink down to their husband’s side and kiss them on the forehead in a goodbye, something of the kind, yet she could not. Merely thinking about giving Graham such a gentle touch felt wrong, not when she thought of all the hurt that he had caused her, plus his intention to kill not only Louisa, but Francis too.
“Goodbye, Graham,” she said calmly and took a step away from his body. She turned her gaze away, hearing the last breath he took.
“He’s gone,” Francis said.
* * *
Francis had explained repeatedly to the constable what had happened, yet they were going over it again anyway. He looked around the sitting room of the inn, amazed at the mess that had unfolded.
Through the doorway, back in the entrance hall, Lord Ridlington was still laid on the floor, but he had been covered by a sheet and hidden from view. In the sitting room, the innkeeper and his wife had been released from their ties and were partaking in strong glasses of ale that had been prepared for everyone for the shock.
Phoebe and Louisa were sat side by side, hand in hand, gripping one another so tightly that the knuckles of their hands were turning white. Diana was sat close by to the two of them, staring at what was now her empty glass of ale.
Josiah was by Francis’ side as they sought to explain again what had happened.
“Why did they come for Lady Ridlington if she was filing for divorce?” the first constable asked as the night watchman beside him scribbled down some notes in a small notebook with a pencil.
“Some men do not accept such things as divorce easily,” Josiah explained. “He was determined to take Lady Ridlington back with him, come what may. Lord Ridlington brought his father-in-law too.”
“Where is he now?” the constable asked.
“Gone,” Francis answered with a sigh as he ruffled his hair. “When Lord Ridlington was shot, Baron Notley ran out of here. I don’t think he fancied being charged with being party to the kidnap of his own daughter.”
“That is what it was?” the watchman said, looking up from his notebook with a strained voice.
“Without a doubt,” Francis answered, keeping his voice strong. “They tried to take her away and threaten to shoot us if we attempted to stop them.”
“Lord Ridlington was going to shoot you anyway, Francis,” Josiah said, pinching the bridge of his nose in stress.
“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” Francis said wryly, watching as the constable and the watchman exchanged fearful glances.
“Rest assured, Baron Notley will be charged for his part in tonight,” the constable said, standing a little taller.
“Thank you,” Francis said, glancing across the room to where Phoebe was talking so quietly with Louisa. They were so far apart that she couldn’t hear their conversation. He was almost pleased for it, as he did not know how she would react to hearing her father would end up in court for what he had done.
“Would you like to break that news to Lady Ridlington, Your Grace?” the constable asked. Francis turned his gaze back to the constable, seeing how perceptive a comment it was.
“Yes please, I think it best,” Francis said with a firm nod.
“Right, then we come back to the crux of the matter…” the constable paused and shifted between his feet, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “A viscount has been killed.”
“That he has,” Francis said, sensing where this was going. “But he was a man the same as any other, and an unkind one at that.”
The constable glanced toward the watchman who shifted just as awkwardly, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
“The magistrate will want someone charged for such a crime,” the constable said eventually in a harried whisper.
“You want to charge a maid with murder?” Josiah said, not afraid to keep the derision out of his voice. “It was self-defense.”
“Was it absolutely? Would you be willing to swear to it in court?” the constable said with a kind of desperation. “I know the magistrate; he’ll insist that someone be charged. In order to refute it, I will need firm evidence.”
“Louisa had no choice,” Francis said with strength and folded his arms across his chest. The constable and the watchman turned their gazes toward Francis, both falling quiet and attentive. “He was firing at her. If you want proof, then go find the bullet he shot in her direction. It landed in the staircase, somewhere near her feet. If she hadn’t shot, he would have killed her.”
“No man would convict her in court,” Josiah said, matching Francis with the same firm tone. “Surely you would not drag her through the chaos of a trial just to be cleared at that point.”
“They would clear her. Categorically so,” Francis said. Seeing the way that the constable and the watchman were looking at him, Francis could see a route to pull the situation to his favor. It was hardly something he liked to do, seeing it as using his superior status to get his way, but on this occasion, it was for the right decision. “You have not only the words of a marquess and a marchioness to prove it, as well as a viscountess, but a duke too. Do you think a magistrate would disagree with my word?”
