The earl slowly turned to face him. “I cannot see that grubbing about in Nicholson’s bills and bank accounts will help. Surely Nicholson himself is irrelevant in this matter. It is obvious to me that a stranger killed Nicholson.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, my lord, why would anyone do such a thing? This is the question that has haunted me from the very start. Nicholson appears on the surface to be an inoffensive man, dutiful, devoted to his wife, liked by everyone, or at least not greatlydisliked. And yet… there was more to him. He had no money of his own, but leaves a fortune to his daughter, and with odd conditions, which I have not yet got to the bottom of. The devoted husband leaves an illegitimate son. He was abnormally lucky at cards, which raises the possibility of cheating. The late earl left him a house — why? What sort of house, and what is being done with it? What was the great attraction of the political society at Pickering? It is my belief that Nicholson was a man with dark secrets, but I cannot find them out while I sit here, not allowed to look beyond Corland Castle itself. There is an answer to this murder, LordRennington, but it will not be foundhere. If I am to uncover the truth, I must start with Nicholson himself, lifting every stone to see what shadowy shapes lie beneath, for only that way can I answer the question of who wanted to kill him, and why, and onlythencan I be sure that there will not be another murder.”
“This is more than a job to you, I think,” the earl said gently.
“I hate mysteries, my lord — hate them with a passion. I always want to worry away at them until everything is clear to me, and especially so when a man has died.”
The earl sighed. “It is not my responsibility to gratify your need for certainty, Edgerton, but if you can bring this matter to a resolution, it will be better for all of us. By all means endeavour to uncover Nicholson’s secrets. You have my permission to talk to anyone, to go anywhere, to follow whatever trails you may find. I will write you letters of authority to the banks and attorneys that Nicholson might have dealt with. I was not close to Nicholson, but he was my brother-in-law, and for my poor dear sister’s sake, I want his murderer found, however long it takes.”
“It may be,” Michael say cautiously, “that we will never find definitive proof — enough to hang a man, anyway. It may come down to mere supposition, in the end.”
“Then let me put it another way — stay until you have satisfied yourself of the murderer’s identity, even if it can never be proved. Or until you feel there is no longer any hope of resolving the question. The judgement is to be yours, and yours alone.”
Michael bowed. “Thank you, my lord. I will endeavour to be worthy of your trust in me.”
18: A Free Hand
Michael was excited. Finally, they were able to make progress on solving this difficult murder! He summoned all of his investigators to a meeting in the old nursery.
“At last we are free of the earl’s restraints,” Michael said, unable to suppress his grin. “The wonderful Miss Strong has helpfully given us the key to unlocking his lordship’s hard heart.”
He waved the letter triumphantly. Luce snatched it from his hand and smoothed the creases. “John Whyte… the smith’s daughter… promising. Miss Strong writes a good hand. Oh, I like this! She says,‘With good wishes and my regards to Mrs Edgerton, Miss Peach, Mr Alexander and to you. Respectfully yours, Winifred Strong.’”She looked up and laughed. “No good wishes for James, I notice.”
James Neate smiled, and broke into dialect. “Aye, but I’m nobbut yer footman and groom, mum. Why’d a fine lady like that ever notice the likes o’ me?”
“And that, my friend, is precisely why you are so useful to me,” Michael said. “And so is Miss Strong useful to me, ina different way. Such precision in her mind! She narrows the likely father of this boy to just two possibilities, the late Lord Rennington and Mr Nicholson. The present earl agrees with me that it must have been Mr Nicholson. And, bless him, he has given me permission to widen the investigation beyond the castle itself.”
“Very sensible,” Pettigrew said. “After a full month here with little progress, we must begin to make enquiries elsewhere.”
“We, Pettigrew?” Michael said, smiling. “Have you no urgent business at present calling such a distinguished barrister as yourself back to town?”
“Nothing as exciting as an axe murder,” Pettigrew said, smiling. “I have never been minded to follow the Assizes about hither and thither, and the courts in town are full of petty thieves and cheating grocers, which hold little appeal. Besides, if you have authority to spread your net wider, that means attorneys and the like, and your only other lawyer is James, who is now firmly established as a footman. I am at your service for any legal or financial enquiries you wish to make.”
“Excellent,” Michael said, grinning in satisfaction. “I shall supply you with a list of banks and attorneys — Helmsley to start with, but we may need to look at Pickering and York as well, where Nicholson was known to go regularly. But this John Whyte… the illegitimate son… hmm, how to approach that? He works for Mr George Atherton, so we cannot barge in unceremoniously.”
“His mother is the daughter of the Birchall smith,” Luce said. “Perhaps a visit to the smithy?”
“And to the White Horse, which is directly across the road from the smithy,” James said. “I have taken the odd tankard of ale there, but it would be livelier on a Saturday night. I might hear something about the argument Miss Peach reported.”
“What argument, Mr Neate?” Miss Peach said, looking up from the child’s nightgown she was stitching.
“Something you heard at the rectory, Peachy,” Luce said. “About Mr Nicholson. You said everyone was very angry.”
“Oh no, dear, no. There are never any arguments at the rectory. Mrs Dewar would never allow anything so unseemly.”
The others exchanged glances. “You take the White Horse, James,” Michael said, “and I shall talk to the smith. Luce, might you care to venture on a shopping expedition to Pickering?”
“Where Mr Nicholson owns a house? That sounds like fun. Peachy, will you come with me?”
Miss Peach shook her head, not looking up from her needlework. “Oh no, dear. I have made such good progress with Mrs Dewar and the Miss Dewars, and it could all be undone if I break with my routine.”
“Not even for two or three days?” Luce said. “You are supposed to be my companion, after all.”
“It would be very helpful,” Michael said. “I believe, Miss Peach, that you have the same talent as James for passing unnoticed in company, which gives you an incomparable advantage over the rest of us. Luce could never pass unnoticed in any company, and anyone who dresses as Pettigrew and I do can never be invisible.”
