"Oh, I thought we were giving ourselves a minute to decompress?" I opened the door wider. “This dress isn't as fancy as it looks. It's actually as comfortable as a nightgown—just don’t tell anyone.”
Henry looked down at his feet, then back up at my eyes with a mischievous grin. "I missed you. It's just. Well, we're both here, and I don't want to waste the opportunity."
"The opportunity?" My eyes widened.
"To prove my case, I suppose." Henry tilted his head to the side and a strand of light brown hair fell across his forehead.
"Well, I suppose you'd better come in."
Before I could close the door, Darcy showed up. He wore a dapper black blazer with a crisp white shirt. Relief spread over his face. “Oh, good. You’re okay.”
“Of course.” I stepped aside to allow him into my sittingroom as well.
His eyebrows rose as he noticed Henry standing in the middle of the room.
“I, uh, I just got here.” Henry looked between the two of us.
"Right, Henry. Your last name's Cyprus, right?" Darcy nodded, giving poor Henry the full Valemont gaze. It was polite, but confusingly neutral, with a subtle air of judgement. I'd seen most of my family deliver the gaze at one point or another, and it generally had the effect of turning the victim into an ingratiating oaf. But Henry handled it surprisingly well.
"Yes, you've probably heard of Cyprus Farms grains and cereal products. I'm one of the many Cyprus's." Henry gave a nonchalant shrug.
"I see," Darcy responded, then he turned to me. “You think Daphne was the killer?”
“No… maybe… it’s just one possibility. I also suspect Bradford because he knows Pemberley so well, but I can't place a motive for him. Daphne is very petite and looked like she could be a good jockey, though.” I frowned. The theory made perfect sense in my mind, but explaining why proved difficult.
“Gonna need a little more than that, Georgiana.” Darcy smirked and sat in one of the armchairs by a window.
"I think one of them has discovered something about the art collection. Maybe we have a piece that's more valuable that we realized. I think Daphne was hoping to buy one of the pieces." I only half understood my own thoughts, but my gut told me I was on to something. "If that's the case, she might not like that Lizzy is doing an article on the art."
Darcy's phone buzzed, and he read the message. “Oh… this is interesting. Dan says it looks like the victim, Zac, is the one who took one of the four-wheelers out. He came here in a sports car, which is in the back parking area, came to the garden sheds, and took our four-wheeler like he knew exactly what to do.”
“What? That verifies that his killer had something to do with Pemberley. I think we're right about them being in the house.” I rubbed my forehead.
“At least it tells us that his coming back here wasn’t random,” Henry said. He took the second armchair and composed himself, mimicking Darcy's confident body language. “He didn’t just happen to bein the area. Someone on horseback met up with him, and maybe even chased him through the woods.”
“Could it have been Daphne, I wonder?” I tried to wrap my head around the order of events.
“I suppose she could have parked farther away, come and taken Storm out and met Zac in the woods, then come back later and acted like she’d only just arrived.” Darcy shook his knee like he always did when he was stressed. “Whoever is responsible for this knew what they were doing.”
He was right. The killer was smart, and we need to account for that. “Bradford's also a good rider, I think. So he could be a possibility."
“I suppose. But you know Bradford is family, and there’s no way he would have known Zac,” Darcy considered.
"Strange coincidences happen sometimes. Maybe Zac tracked him down," Henry suggested.
But the chances of that happening were microscopic. “I know some of our staff members are good riders as well, especially Dan. So it’s a bit of a shot in the dark, but I’m not ready to accuse any of them.”
“Too bad there aren’t cameras at the stables.” Henry seemed utterly confused.
I knew I was confusing them both. “Well, there kind of are. It’s just that this property is very old and there’s a back entrance. For privacy, we don’t have cameras at all the secret entrances. Whoever took Storm must’ve known that.”
“But you don’t think it’s a staff member?” Henry raised his eyebrows.
“My gut tells me it wasn’t. I’m not completely sure, of course.” How could I explain I needed our staff at Pemberley to be trustworthy? To me, they were family, and I’d already lost enough loved ones.
“I’m on the fence about the possibility of a staff member.” Darcy somehow understood how I felt.
“We should watch for anything off at dinner. If the killer was on horseback, they’ve got to be in the house. How else would Storm have gotten home?” I bit my bottom lip. Hopefully, they would trust me. “Darcy, can you please plan to offer a tour of the guest art gallery after dinner? I would like to see how they react tovarious pieces.”
