“What did you find?”
“Who are you, young woman?” Lord Rathwick demanded. He was a short, portly man whose generous jowls quivered when he spoke. He smelled of horses and tobacco.
“This is Isabella Browning, governess to my children,” Damien interjected. “Miss Browning, may I present Lord Rathwick.”
Isabella automatically sank into a curtsey. The magistrate returned her greeting with a short nod of his head, running a distrustful eye from Isabella’s dusty shoes to her unkempt hair. His heavy, dark brows crinkled in confusion.
“I still don’t understand why she is here, Saunders,” he said in a gruff voice. Puffing out his chest, Lord Rathwick added, “It’s highly improper having a woman around an official investigation.”
“I have a right to be here,” Isabella said, drawing herself up to her full height and bringing her eyes level with Rathwick’s. “Emmeline was my sister.”
The magistrate’s jowls shook. He opened and closed his mouth several times, looking so much like a fish that Isabella was hard pressed not to laugh out loud. Instead she ignored Lord Rathwick and asked Jenkins, “What did you discover?”
The valet never hesitated. “Lady Emmeline’s neck and ankle were broken and the side of her face pressing against the stone floor was smashed. There is a deep rut in the flooring. She must have tripped and fallen. We found a small candle stub and a thin line of spilled wax near her left hand. It was impossible to tell if the flame went out in a draft, as Lord Poole’s candle did, and caused the fall, or if Lady Emmeline simply missed her footing and stumbled on the uneven ground.”
“It was a horrible accident,” Damien added solemnly.
“An accident, you say?” Lord Rathwick raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Now that’s for me to decide. ’Course, ruling all this an accidental death would be a convenient conclusion for you, wouldn’t it, Saunders?”
Isabella saw Damien’s jaw tighten, but he refrained from answering.
“Just what are you insinuating, Lord Rathwick?” Isabella demanded.
“I am trying to discover the truth, young woman,” the magistrate said pompously. “Since Lady Emmeline was your sister, maybe you can give me a reasonable explanation as to why she was alone in that dark, hidden passageway.”
Isabella gestured helplessly, looking first to Damien and then to Jenkins for support.
“I think this will provide the answer. It was found in the pocket of Emmeline’s riding habit,” Damien said. He pulled from his coat a fragile, leather-bound book.
Lord Rathwick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He took the volume out of the earl’s hand and flipped through several pages. Squinting, Lord Rathwick moved into a rose-colored shaft of sunlight. Grasping the book tightly, he extended his arms as far as they would reach. “Can’t read all that well without my spectacles, but this appears to a journal of sorts. Who the deuce is Lady Anne?”
“Emmeline had Lady Anne’s journal?” Isabella felt a flush of excitement. “Good heavens, Emmeline must have been searching for the treasure. That’s why she was in the hidden passageway.”
“Lady Anne’s treasure? I remember hearing those wild tales when I was a boy, but I didn’t think anyone believed that silly old legend,” Lord Rathwick said with a frown. “And yet, there doesn’t appear to be any evidence indicating a crime. Although I find it a bit of far-fetched thinking to say Lady Saunders was searching for treasure, I suppose it is a reasonable explanation.”
“That is a completely far-fetched and totally ludicrous notion.” Lord Poole’s voice, strong and steady, fell over the room.
Isabella watched him rise on his feet, push himself away from the wall, then move to join them. She was glad his deep melancholy had faded, but she was alarmed to see the fire of revenge that now gleamed in his eye. “Emmeline would never have gone on such a harebrained escapade. She had far too much dignity.”
“What do you think happened, Lord Poole?” Lord Rathwick inquired politely.
“I think it is obvious. Saunders killed her and hid her body in the wall.”
“Oh, Thomas, you can’t believe that,” Isabella cried, appalled by the accusation.
“Why not? It is as good an explanation as the accident theory. ’Twas was common knowledge their marriage was not a happy one.” Lord Poole gave Damien a shrewd look. “Divorce is a long, costly, and unpredictable process. Surely there are easier ways to rid oneself of an unwanted wife.”
“How dare you,” Damien said through his teeth. Isabella could see the earl’s temper flaring, but he stood perfectly still, his hands in clenched fists at his sides.
“Oh, I dare, Saunders,” Lord Poole sneered. “I vow you will pay for Emmeline’s death, and pay dearly.”
“You are still upset, Thomas,” Isabella said gravely. She set her arm gently on his shoulder. “You don’t know what you are saying.”
“He is deranged,” Jenkins said scornfully.
“Murder is a very serious accusation, sir,” Lord Rathwick said. “It will be necessary for me to conduct a formal investigation. Question witnesses, search for clues, that sort of thing. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
If the situation weren’t so grave, Isabella would have laughed out loud at Lord Rathwick’s abrupt change of attitude. He no longer seemed enamored of his position as magistrate now that it appeared the job would entail actual work.
